


Lovely Things

by delinquents



Series: Ernest Only Has Lovely Things To Say About You [2]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Maybe a bit, but i put a spin to it, deserved to be endgame, jess mariano - Freeform, literally does not follow their original storyline at all, rory gilmore - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delinquents/pseuds/delinquents
Summary: Rory had told Paris that she loves her small town, but sometimes Stars Hollow can be boring. Jess Mariano appears the next day, throwing everything off-kilter. It doesn't stay boring for long.
Relationships: (Minor/Background) Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore, Rory Gilmore & Jess Mariano, Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano
Series: Ernest Only Has Lovely Things To Say About You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812805
Comments: 33
Kudos: 138





	1. First Words

**Author's Note:**

> basically, jess and rory should have been end game so i'm rewriting their original storyline (with a tad bit of cannon compliance mixed in there)

Luke's always been his favorite relative - not that Jess would ever admit that out loud, and not like he has many other relatives to compare Luke too. Jess knows he's not easy to handle, purposely makes it harder than necessary on some occasions, but Luke's always been there to drag him out of any serious trouble and set Liz straight, at least for a few days before she spirals again. 

But that doesn't mean he's thrilled to be living with him now.

"It's small but-" Luke doesn't finish his sentence, just shrugs when Jess drops his bag and looks at him. Luke's good at interrupting himself, Jess noted when he was younger, but normally it's because he's mad. Mad at Jess for getting expelled, mad at Liz for continuously dropping the ball as a parent, mad at whatever boyfriend Liz had let into their apartment that time.

He's not mad now, as far as Jess can see, just annoyed. Annoyed at Liz for dropping the final ball, annoyed that he had to make last-minute preparations for his nephew, probably annoyed that he's stuck living with a teenager now too. On the phone he had said it was Liz's idea for him to stay for a while; Jess knows that means Luke doesn't trust Liz won't pull another 'i-disappeared-and-came-back-with-another-man-but-this-time-it's-going-to- _work_ ' act that's she's perfected for so long. Jess knows it was Luke who told Liz that he should come over, knows that it's not a 'stay' but a 'mostly-permanent' kind of deal, otherwise Liz wouldn't send over the rest of his stuff once he's settled.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Luke heads for the fridge, eyes flicking to Jess like Luke's the prey and Jess will pounce at any small sign of vulnerability. Jess shakes his head, already heading for the door, hand reaching for his back pocket to pull out his book. If Luke starts to say something to him, Jess doesn't here it out over the door shutting.

The diner is still open, half full with people who look at him the second he pulls the curtain to the side and steps out. Some go straight back to their meals, curious but not overly so at the new stranger, but Jess can hear conversations halt and abruptly restart the new topic of _him_ within seconds. He hears Luke's boots thunder down the stairs and quickly steps behind the counter as his uncle rounds the corner.

"Where you heading?"

Jess shrugs, pouring himself some coffee into a to-go mug and dropping some nickels into the cash register when Luke grunts at him. "Does it matter?"

"You don't know you're way around."

"I'm sure a slight breeze will push me back here before dark."

Luke sighs as the door chimes. "Jess-"

"Coffee!" A voice exclaims.

"In a minute-"

"Bye!" Jess says, overly-cheery, and manages to escape past the counter before Luke yells his name after him. 

"Back by six."

"It's half four."

"Your point? I want you back before six."

"Well, what if an old lady needs help crossing the street? You want me to say 'sorry, but my landlord wants me home, you're on your own lady'? I expected better from you."

" _Landlord_?!"

"Okay, I have been here a whole fifty-six seconds and yet, oh look! No coffee!"

"Lorelai!" Luke grunts, and then back to Jess. " _Six._ I mean it, Jess, you better be back here, as in through that door and stood _in_ the diner at six."

"I'll just avoid all old ladies altogether then. Save the risk."

"Problem solved," Coffee-Woman slaps her hands together and thrusts a finger towards the machine. "Chop-chop Diner-Man."

Jess finally, _finally,_ escapes as Luke takes his eyes off of him to sigh at the woman. He walks a little while past the main town area, finding a bench and cracking open his book. It's a re-read, _On The Road,_ but he hadn't really been looking when he was packing his things. So annoyed at Liz, at what's-his-name-man-of-the-month, at moving to Stars Hollow of all places that he hadn't looked at what book he had picked. In his haste to leave he just shoved any old book into his back pocket. He thinks of his copy of _The Sun Also Rises_ he was halfway through before Liz dropped the bomb, sighs knowing he'll probably have to buy a completely new copy.

He doesn't have a pen, which is another thing to add to his list of annoyances and slams the book closed before he even starts reading. 

_Stars Hollow_. He didn't want to move here. He wanted to stay in New York. He _knows_ New York. He likes the fact that there are always people in the street and no one looks at him twice. Likes that when he doesn't feel like sitting in a classroom he can wander to Fort Washington and no one questions why he's not sat in a math class. He got away with it, mostly, in New York. Built a reputation with his teachers ( _"bright, could do so well if he applied himself to his lessons... could go further if he left his free-reading for his free-time... needs to focus as much on his required reading than he does for Hemingway... has an above-average understanding and interest in literature, but should consider focusing on other subjects also"_ ), built a reputation with other students and was left marginally alone, just like he wanted. He's been in Stars Hollow for a solid forty minutes and already knows none of that applies here.

He won't get away with ditching school, and from the way everyone around here seems to know everybody's business, won't be left alone either.

And then there's - well... there's _Stars Hollow_.

He has two completely separate pictures of this place. The one Liz drafted for him, this misshaped puzzle, where some pieces were the best days of her life; bicycle rides around town, learning to man the cash register of her old man's place, picnics with her brother and school friends, first kisses behind school dumpsters, 'life-long' friends that only lasted for another three months after graduation; and where the other pieces were the worst; having to creep around town in the shadows to avoid people gossiping of being out so late, of everything being shut after half nine, having to go to Hartford or further for a fun night out, for being _bored_.

And the one Luke says, which is mostly the same but with more positive pieces, more reasons to have stayed as long as he had. Jess won't tell him that most of his reasons to stay were based around the diner, around the fact that if he hadn't stuck around, turned his father's business into his own, that the store would have been sold eons ago (probably into another ceramic unicorn store).

 _Stars Hollow_ , Jess snorts, leaning his head back against the cold wood of the bench, legs stretched ahead of him, fingers plucking at the pages of Kerouac. 

_I'll be back in New York soon,_ he takes comfort in thinking (even if he doesn't truly believe it himself), _soon._

* * *

"So..."

Rory has a withering stare. A _really_ good one, might she add, that she's perfected during her relatively short time at Chilton. It's mainly for people on the bus, so they don't try to start conversations during her Good Books - she doesn't really feel the need to use it during the Okay Books or the Obviously Could Be Better Books. 

But Lorelai is immune to all withering looks, growing up with Emily as her mother, and carries on as they trudge along the path to Luke's.

"Dean." It's not a question. She didn't trial off her sentence. Just finished his name off with a round full-stop and an expectation of Rory to finish it off for her.

She sighs, hands shoved in her pockets to battle the cold. It'll snow soon, Lorelai insists, and the weather is all ready for it. "That's over." She concludes, not willing to talk about it just yet, praying her mother will drop it. Luckily, they reach the diner and Rory dashes in before her mother can carry on anyway. Luke has two mugs waiting on the counter, and when he sees Rory unwinding her scarf he pours freshly brewed coffee into them both and headed back to serving a customer at the register.

"We've trained him well." Lorelai moans as she takes a sip, gloves abandoned on the counter.

"He shall soon be ready."

"Ah, but not yet," Lorelai nods, "Much to learn, has he young grasshopper."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not two feet away from you," Luke grunts, grabbing his cloth from under the counter and swiping up the drops of condensation from the Gilmore's gloves. "What time is it?"

"Time you got a watch! Classic!"

Rory flashes him a glance at her watch, "Six o'five."

"That-" The bell chimes above the door and Luke takes on The Stance (Rory started calling it that when she was twelve. The Stance came around every time Lorelai ordered anything remotely unhealthy, alongside a request all healthy aspects of said unhealthy meal to be either chucked in the bin or set on fire before they do any more damage to society). 

"I said six." Luke grunts.

Rory feels a presence sit on the stool beside her, and peeks a glance at him over the rim of her coffee mug. "I know."

"It's five past."

"Huh."

There's a silence, both men stood in a silent stand-off.

"Jess." Luke breaks first.

"What can I say?" New Guy - Jess - supplies, hands folded together, elbows on the counter with a cheery shrug, "This place has quite a few old ladies-"

"Jess-"

"Seriously. They're just standing on the corners of the streets. I can't help I'm chivalrous, Luke, who knows how long they've been there." Luke's pinching his nose now, only one hand on his hip as Jess carries on. Lorelai's openly smirking at the exchange, Rory's biting back a grin of her own. "Seriously, one of them had a grocery bag - all the food expired. Gonna have to do it all again tomorrow, the poor woman."

"Boo-hoo."

" _Canned food_. Luke. It was _all_ canned food. Do you know how long you have to stand there for _canned_ food to expire?"

"I'm sure she witnessed the Civil War from that exact spot."

Jess shrugs, seemingly done with the conversation and when Luke sighs and turns his back he leans over to grab a doughnut from the glass case further down. He meets Rory's eyes when he sits down again and shoots her a small smirk before leaning over and grabbing another doughnut, passing it to Rory and winking. 

"I'm Rory," She says lamely, holding back a wince.

Jess doesn't seem to notice, or just doesn't point it out, instead shaking her hand, "Jess."

"So I heard."

He hums, biting into the doughnut and shrugging off his jacket at the same time. A book slaps to the floor.

"Kerouac fan?"

"Beats fan. You know Kerouac?"

It's her turn to shrug. "I've dabbled."

He's picked the book from the floor by now, turns on his stool to face her, legs parted so one knee is pressing against the counter's frame and the other bouncing against the stool's cushion. He looks interested; Rory's impressed someone else in town has even heard of Kerouac.

He nods his chin at her to indicate she should go on, tongue kissing his back teeth. 

She doesn't quite understand why, but suddenly she's a little shy. She's been begging for someone around town to hold a conversation with her on books, to keep up, to have read something worth talking about other than half of the Harry Potter books. Now, here someone is, in the flesh (" _quite a looker, huh?"_ Her mother would say later), and Rory can only remember a solid four titles on her bookshelf. _Pathetic_ , she scolds herself.

"Rand-" Jess interrupts her with a groan and she scowls at him, "What's wrong with Rand?"

"She drags!" He exclaims, elbow back on the counter but body lent towards her, leg no longer bouncing, "No one needs to read a 40-page monologue-"

"But she writes it so beautifully!" She argues now, shuffling to face him also. Her knee knocks with his, she jerks it away. "And yes, no one _needs_ to read it, but it's _pivotal_ to the book-"

"It's _boring_. I'm pretty sure I forgot how to read justto get out of finishing it."

Her hand slaps the counter in outrage, "You didn't finish it!" It's not a question. He knows it's not.

"Rory," If this were a normal conversation, the way he says her name, slightly breathless from their discussion, lips wrapping around the 'r' sounds, dragging with the 'y', "I got maybe, _maybe_ , seven pages in before I had the urge to fling the book into the subway."

Had it been a normal conversation, the way he's looking at her - eyes aflame with the challenge of their discussion, pearly white teeth gleaming under his smirking lips, chin jutted out in confidence - she would have stopped to notice how attractive he is. It's still there, that realization, far back in her mind. 

But she's angry. He hasn't finished it!

"Jess," She says just as evenly, likes the way her confidence makes his eyes gleam further, "You need to finish it," This might be classed as begging, Rory doesn't care, "Trust me."

"I don't know you."

She tilts her head, lets her eyes fall into the doe-y look that the entire town falls for every time, "Don't I look trustworthy?"

"I guess," He leans closer to her, smirking again but it's slightly smaller than before, "But, I simply can't trust anyone who recommends Rand." There's playfulness there, and his smirk turns a little more into a smile when she begins full-on begging him.

"Oh come on, you don't even need to like it! Just finish it. Let me know how _terribly boring_ the other thirty-three pages are. Please, for me."

He takes another bite of his doughnut, leaning back slightly to not get crumbs on his lap, and incidentally hers too, "Tell me, who don't you like?"

"You, at the moment."

"Funny," He rolls his eyes, but there's a shake of his shoulders to it and a sense of pride to Rory, "Seriously. Who?"

"Hemingway."

He's silent, then wide-eyed, staring between her and Luke. Rory hadn't realized that her mother and Luke had been watching the whole exchange, begins to feel a little embarrassed when Jess shoots up the stairs behind the diner.

Lorelai looks like it's just started to snow. "You know-"

"Please, don't." Rory's begging her now. "Mom, seriously-"

A book slams onto the counter in front of her before she can finish. Jess is on the other side, next to Luke, directly opposite Rory, hands on the counter, staring with vigorous confidence at her. 

" _The Old Man and The Sea._ " She reads, picking the book up carefully. It's obviously well-loved, spine cracked on what seems to be every page, corners frayed, ink on the front page worn away in some parts. "I've read this."

"Did you like it?"

She shakes her head, "No."

"Then it seems, Rory," He says casually, "You'll be reading it again."

An eyebrow is raised at him, he raises one right back at her. "So," She says slowly, "I read this and-"

"And I'll give Rand another try." He nods.

" _The Fountainhead_." She confirms. He lets out a moan again but nods too. He reaches under the counter, slips a pen into the front two pages of Hemingway, and slides it across the counter to her. 

"Let me know what you think." He says, then disappears back upstairs with a barely noticeable goodbye.

Lorelai humphs, "I don't think I've ever felt more ignored in my entire life."

"Forgotten last Friday already?" Luke mutters, refilling her cup of coffee.

Rory only half listens to their back-and-forth.

* * *

They leave the diner after eating. Luke's still disgruntled every time they order anything there, always straying far from vegetables, and even more disgruntled when they wait until a minute past closing to leave - purely because Lorelai likes rubbing Luke the wrong way, especially when she gets away with it every time. 

Rory dodges another round of Dean-related questions between Luke's and their front door, and ducks into her room with a promise of answering all her mother's questions in the morning. By the time she's ready for sleep, curled under covers, she remembers Hemingway on the edge of her desk. Her floor's cold on her bare feet, and she jumps back into bed once she's retrieved the book.

Jess has underlined sentences, circled certain words, added notes alongside some of them, left them as if they need no explanation for others. The first time she read it, she had been thirteen, not fully grasping the message but knowing the story, and had written it off as an Okay Book. By the ninth page, Rory can see why Jess seems to like Hemingway so much. She can't say she's onboard - she's read a few works since she was thirteen, never gotten too interested - but Jess's notes and underlined passages stand out, clarify a few things, makes paragraphs flow together. The way he jots them down makes it seem so obvious, like anyone who reads it should just _know_ why Hemingway chose that word, chose that way of explaining it.

 _Let me know what you think_ , he had said when he had handed over the pen and the book. She had been twisting the end of the pen against her lower lip as she read, forgetting for a moment that she had been given permission to write in his book. She wanted to underline sentences he had missed, wanted to write an argument to one of his points, but writing in another's book seemed too personal or, at least, next to his own notes. She flipped to the back two pages, left blank during printing, and angled her lamp so she could sit up and cross her legs and still see.

When Lorelai tucked her head around the door at two in the morning, just to ask why the lamp was still on, Rory was asleep above the covers, pen tucked into the spine of the book to mark her place, thumb separating the back pages of her notes from the rest of the book.


	2. Chapter 2

One of Luke's rules was that Jess worked at the diner. Jess had expected to argue that point, but it was something to do, an easy way of getting cash in his pocket and it meant not having to worry about finding somewhere else. His first morning at Stars Hollow, Luke woke him up at six to help with the delivery and set up the diner. 

Jess was in a mood. He was tired, his back hurt from the stupid air mattress bursting in the night, and his shoulder hurt from lugging his back on and off busses all day the day before. That last one was his fault - Liz and Luke both told him to get the express bus or even the one that adds two hours to the journey by stopping at every irrelevant stop on the way, but he was sulking about having to leave and angry at the both of them for making it happen so purposefully stopped every three stations and switched busses. He was traveling for the whole day, instead of an hour or so. His shoulder's an angry red to show him.

And, to top it all off, everybody in town wants to know who the new guy working the register is. Luke's already kicked out Taylor, who had been stationed outside the diner before the delivery came in, yelled an introduction through the door, and then lectured Jess for fifteen minutes after opening about the importance of maintaining Stars Hollow's reputation. He was still talking over Luke's arguing when he kicked him out. 

He's adding together ticket totals when the door chimes and someone slides a copy of _The Fountainhead_ across the counter to him. Rory's stood there, school uniform pristine and proper, backpack a stark yellow in comparison to the navy of her sweatshirt. 

"I wasn't sure you had a copy," She says almost shyly when Jess reaches for the book and thumbs it open.

It's well-loved, obviously been read more than twice, but the pages are still neat and unbent. He sees her name written at the top of the first page in curly writing, a post-it underneath, a pen tucked in besides that. _Let me know what you think_ , the post-it reads.

"I don't normally write in mine," She says as he picks the pen up, "But you can. Not sure if Hemingway is the only note-worthy one but-"

"Thanks," He cuts off the rambling, tucking the pen into the pocket at his chest. "You don't need to write in mine," He says, and quickly as an afterthought, "If you don't want to."

She brings her hand up from where the counter had hidden it. She's used the pen he gave her as a bookmark but flicks it open to the book. Same curly handwriting as her name covered the pages at the back that once were blank. "I had some opinions."

"I can see that."

"Mainly about your opinions."

"Well, color me shocked."

"They make sense," She shrugs, "Some of them. Others are a little... unconventional."

"I'm sure."

"You can write in that," She says, nodding towards the book on the counter, Jess's thumb still propping it open to the title page. "But if you dog-ear it, I will have to fine you."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Well, good."

He smirks at her tucking Rand into his back pocket, replacing the Hemingway there already. "Howl." He says.

"I have it." She replies, both hands holding the book now, hips leaning against the counter.

"Mind if I borrow it?" 

She hums, "Once you've filled me in on the other thirty-three."

"A book tease is what you are." He mutters, turning his back to fill a coffee mug to go. From the fancy uniform, he can only presume she's heading to Hartford. If so, the bus will be soon.

Rory stirs in a sachet of sugar, stepping aside so Babette can pay for her breakfast. She'd been sitting with Miss Patty a few yards away, and Rory's sure they'd been eavesdropping. She's proven correct when Jess turns his back once again after handing over the change, and Babette pulls an appreciative face and winks at Rory. 

"You'll be late," She jumps, tearing her eyes from Babette's retreating back, meets Jess's eyes instead. He's leaning his forearms against the counter, watching Rory.

"So will you," She retorts, "Presuming you're going to school."

He looks out the window at the school, not a thirty seconds walk away, "Maybe." He shrugs. "Luke hasn't said anything."

"Might be giving you time to settle." Rory secures the lid onto her cup and grabs ahold of Hemingway. "I'll see you later?"

He hums in affirmative.

"I'll probably drop in after school, around four." She doesn't know why she's telling him this. "My mom's normally here." He nods, smiling small at her. Not unkindly. She won't go as far as to fondly, but it's close.

"I'll have the coffee ready for four then." 

Good, he's expecting her. Is that good?

He chuckles at her silence, "Go on, get out of here."

She reads Hemingway on the bus, nearly misses her stop because she's had to dig out some paper from her book bag to carry on her notes. She never puts it away at school. It's tucked into the back of her binder the entire day; she devours another five chapters by lunch.

* * *

True to his word, Jess has a fresh pot of coffee is brewing at 3:59. Luke raises an eyebrow at him. There's half a pot left. The eyebrow raises higher when Lorelai strolls in and Jess fills her mug to the brim, trying to finish the pot.

"Him," Lorelai starts, wagging a finger at Jess but looking at Luke, "He's been trained well. You got another coffee addict hidden outback that he's getting his training from? Why haven't I met them yet?"

"No coffee addicts outback," Luke mutters, "I'm charging you extra for that."

"You don't charge me ever."

Despite the appreciation, when she finishes only half of her mug and Jess empties the rest of the pot in it, she raises her own quizzical eyebrow.

"You like coffee." Jess shrugs.

"Do I? Luke, why didn't you tell me?"

Luke simply rolls his eyes, snatching the empty pot from Jess and disappears into the kitchen. All other customers have been served, no one needs anything, so Jess pulls out Rand from his back pocket and tries to ignore Lorelai's eyes on him. She gives a sharp intake when Jess connects the pen Rory gave him to the book and draws a box around an entire paragraph. She gives another one when he tilts the book and writes a note.

"She said I could," He mutters, never taking his eyes from the page.

"My Rory?"

"No. The other one, a little bit taller, has pink hair, plays a mean game of Connect 4."

"Ah yes, _that_ one. Devasted when she left home."

"I'm sure, she sounds great."

"Rory is great." She says it gentle, the way only a mother talking about her daughter can, but still, sharply, the way only a mother talking about her daughter to a strange boy can. "She really is great."

Jess meets her eye, nodding once then turning back to the book. He's at Toohey's section now. Could probably be at Wynand's but the diner has a steady stream of customers at all times of the day, apparently, and he's been forced to stop and start every five minutes.

"The whole town thinks so," Lorelai continues. Jess puts the pen down, watching Lorelai. She watches him back, expecting him to say something, and when he does she carries on, running the tip of her finger over the rim of her mug, "Really, really great. But also easily led sometimes, and doesn't like disappointing anyone - _anyone_ \- even if she doesn't fully know them yet. She trusts with everything and doesn't believe that you should earn that first time around. She'll give it to you completely blindfolded and if you break her, Luke's nephew or not, I will break you, too."

"What makes you think I'll break her?"

She seems shocked he's said something. "Because I know you're here because you caused trouble. Luke told me you're good at getting yourself into it. Rory doesn't do trouble. Rory's _good_. Rory's _pure_ and I don't want you taking that good away." There's a pause. "Do you have a motorcycle?"

"No."

"Driving license?"

"Yes."

"Car?"

"Not as of yet."

She studies him. He can hear someone's knife screeching against their plate, can imagine Luke's teeth grinding at the sound in the kitchen.

"The only kind of boy I'd let break her would have a motorcycle."

"Is that an invitation to buy one?"

"I'm not selling."

"Good, I'm not buying."

"You got a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Had one?"

"Not technically."

"Why?"

"Not usually big on talking."

"Seemed to do just fine with her last night."

He shrugs as an answer.

"You didn't say much to me. Or Luke."

"Luke and I talked last night. Air bed burst. He swore. Tried taping it, didn't end well."

"Heard you had to share the bed."

"He stretches out, I'm not a fan."

"He's not a fan of your snoring."

"Well, it looks as if we're both in a standoff then."

It was meant between him and Luke, but now he and Lorelai are in one too. The bell above the door breaks it, both turning to see Rory in the doorway. Her backpack's hanging from three fingers, Hemingway in her other hand, but her eyes are drifting between Jess and Lorelai suspiciously. 

Lorelai's the first to break it, lifting her coffee mug. "Jess knows how to top up a coffee."

"A pivotal skill working at Luke's," Rory says slowly, inching towards the counter, "Especially with you around."

Jess lifts a mug from under the counter, pours coffee in, and hands it to Rory without a word. She puts her bag down, settles Hemingway opposite Rand on the counter, leans to hug her mother quickly. Jess spots the pieces of paper folded in the back of the book, wordlessly takes them and flicks through them. There's only three, but both sides of each page are filled with notes, quotes from the book she's drawn spider's legs off of, and jotted down her notes on them. There are questions too, with spaces underneath it for an answer, presumably.

He gets his pen, leans an elbow against the counter again, the hum of Rory telling Lorelai about school at the back of his mind as he scribbles down some answers on the paper. He flicks open to the back of the book too, reads the notes she's left there too. Jess knows if this had been a verbal conversation between them, it could easily last days. Rory seems to agree with some of what he says, grins a little at the way he can see she's put little ticks next to his notes on the pages when she likes what he's put, but the rest is all methodical thinking and arguments. Some are bullet-pointed, some are blocks of scribbled handwriting explaining her side and arguing against his.

"Dean stopped by." He sees Rory tense out of the corner of his eye, the pen in his hand freezes mid-word against his will. He's suddenly listening, finishing the rest of his sentence much slower than how he was writing before and tries to ignore the feeling of Lorelai's eyes flicking to him every now and again.

"And?" Rory _almost_ sounds indifferent, save for the hitch in her voice at the last syllable. 

"Dropped off a few things. I put them on your bed." There's a brief pause, Rory looks a little more relaxed, but her fingers are playing with the edge of the pages Jess is trying to write on and he can only presume she doesn't notice when their knuckles bump together. He does, Lorelai does.

"Okay, thanks."

"So, it's really done huh?"

Jess can't help but listen to a little closer...

"Didn't really start."

...and closer...

"Seemed like it did."

...closer...

"Might have happened. I think it's best it didn't."

... _closer_...

"Jess!"

He jumps a little, hopes he passes it off as being too focused on the book in front of him, and not eavesdropping on the conversation happening just beyond the book. Luke's handing half out the kitchen, "Clock out," He says, "You've been here all day."

He nods, ruffling his hair and throwing the rag, that had spent the day alternating between tables and his waistband, under the counter. When he looks up, Rory's looking at him. A faint hint of red spreads across her cheeks for a moment - a very prominent feeling of pride warms Jess's own.

"What do you think?" She says, fingers still playing with Hemingway, but she's talking about Rand.

"Still not my favorite," She looks a little deflated, but perks up when he adds, "But not as bad as I've been making her out to be, I guess. Hemingway?"

"A little easier to follow along," She smiles. 

"Go talk nerdy to each other somewhere else," Lorelai groans, "I want to enjoy my coffee without my brain hurting."

Jess doesn't have to question it, or Rory. She picks both books up, leaves her bag with Lorelai; Jess pours more coffee for her in a to-go mug, grabs his jacket, and they leave the diner together. Kids from the high school are still slowly trickling out of the building, and Jess sees the way Rory tenses briefly when her eyes flicker that way.

"Something wrong?" 

She smiles, albeit distractedly, at him, "No. Just- Want to read?"

"We're in the middle of the street."

She grabs his wrist, starts dragging him along. When he stops stumbling over his own feet, catches up to her, his arm has wrapped her elbow without him realizing. Rory doesn't move, maybe tenses a little bit more but relaxes too, swaps Rand for the coffee, and starts telling him who owns what store as they pass them.

"Taylor owns a lot, huh?"

"Taylor... Well, he thinks he runs the place." Rory fills him in. They've walked past the town, currently on a lake. Rory seems to see where they are, pauses looks around like she's lost. He knows she's not, probably just started walking without realizing _where_ her feet where taking her. He finds he doesn't mind. Sits on the edge of the bridge, one leg tucked under his other knee, foot just close to skimming the water. Rory mirrors his position, smiles shyly again.

"Your town's a little weird." He says.

She hums, nods, "I like it."

"I didn't say I didn't." He _thinks_ he does. He doesn't like Taylor, doesn't like the way people stare at him, the way it's obvious they don't trust him and probably won't. News travels fast, they know he's the troublemaker nephew Luke took in.

His reputation's been set in stone, it seems. Rory seems to be ignoring it.

* * *

They read in silence. Rory glances at him through her eyelashes periodically, normally when his hands reach out to turn a page or write something down. Hemingway is in her lap, pen back against her lip. He's put Rand on the bridge, in the space between them, pen between his teeth. When he turns a page she feels it against her knee. He has a tendency to hold the book from the top; when he forgets how close they are his knuckles skim against the tights on her legs. He doesn't jerk away, neither does he, they both pretend they don't see the other catching them looking.

"You know, Rand's monologue isn't in this."

"Took you a while to clock on," Rory laughs gently at his playful scoff. Their books are closed suddenly; his pen spinning between her fingers, her pen still between his teeth, pushed to the side of his mouth now. "It's in _Atlas Shrugged_."

"You're not going to make me read that too, right?"

"Depends how badly you want that Howl."

"Tease."

* * *

Rory shows him around town. They start off wandering out streets, Rory pointing out certain houses, telling him who lives there, what they do, who to call if he ever needs them ("Rory, when am I ever going to need an OBGYN?" "Science is coming a long way, Jess."). She rounds off the tour back at Luke's, five minutes after they close for the night. Luke's wiping down some mugs behind the counter, looks up and watches through the glass in the door as the two teenagers stand opposite each other.

Jess has his hands shoved deep into his pockets, Rory's hands are entwined together in front of her. Both are rocking back onto their heels, quiet all of a sudden.

"Thanks for the tour."

Rory's startled out of the silence, tries to shake it off. "Well, you needed to know where everything is."

"The OBGYN, especially."

"Obviously."

"Okay," He drawls. He's searching for something to say, doesn't really know why there's a need for him to carry on talking. "Do you want coffee?"

"Oh, uh, I should get be getting home." 

"To go?"

"It's okay, probably had too much today anyway."

"Okay, well..."

"Yeah..."

He catches her eye, quickly looks away again. She clears her throat, points over her shoulder, "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Rory."

Her smile is shy, shyer when he hands over Hemingway, and she darts away across the street. He watches her as she crosses through the town square and only steps inside the diner when he can no longer see her. 

"Cesear's taking over tomorrow," Luke says, dropping a box onto the counter with a grunt, "We have a meeting with the school, then we're getting you a bed."

"Don't fancy another tango with the blow-up?"

He's silenced with a stare and then handed a key. "Opens the diner and the apartment. Don't lose it, don't give it away."

* * *

He's fiddling with the key a few hours later. Luke hates the smell of cigarettes, told him that there's no smoking if he's living here, so Jess is having one last smoke. He's not big on smoking himself, doesn't feel the itch for a smoke every few hours, but likes the way it feels like all the stress is falling off of him with the smoke.

He'd tried to phone Liz. He doesn't know why; they rarely hold conversations well when they're face-to-face, so he doesn't understand why there was a sudden urge to phone at four in the morning. It had rung three times, then voicemail. He had tried again, this time the neighbor had picked up. Said Liz had gone away for a few days, asked her to check-in and open the windows each night, that she can leave a note for when Liz is back, said she hopes Jess is okay wherever he is when he declined the offer.

The key's new, obviously freshly cut for Jess. It glimmers in the light above the diner door. He doesn't remember the last time he got something _new_ , or at least, that he knew was new. Most of the books he got at school drives, second-hand stores, and market stalls. His clothes come from the same places (most of the time, Luke buys him band tee-shirts - which Luke hates - for Christmas and his birthdays, Jess buys his own jeans out of money he finds in the couch) and he never bothers buying school textbooks when he won't even be in class to use them.

He didn't have a key in New York. It never bothered him. Liz was always home anyway, worked nights sometimes and Jess was always home then, he never needed a key. If Liz worked during the day it didn't matter, Jess would be somewhere or other in the city, sometimes riding the subway for a few hours back and forth whilst he read, sometimes in Fort Washington Park, and when Jess did stroll back home Liz was there or had forgotten to lock the door anyway.

He thumbs away some ash from the circle end of the key, blows out the smoke in his mouth, lets the thoughts of Liz float off with it. Stars Hollow is silent save for some crickets when he locks the diner door after him and flicks off the light.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote three versions of this. two of them chose not to save and just deleted themselves over night. this has been heavily added to. enjoy it please, i beg

Rory gets lolled into a false sense of security that morning. Lorelai's busy with an emergency at work when she wakes up and doesn't get back until midday. Except, when she does get back, Lane's in tow and she doesn't have a chance to even question it let alone bolt for the security of her room. She knew she shouldn't have debated her need for a coffee and should have just gone to Luke's. But she didn't want to seem eager. She had seen Jess less than fifteen hours ago, doesn't want him thinking she's purposely showing up just for him. Never mind that she and her mother have gone to Luke's every day without fail since moving to Stars Hollow. Jess might not know that.

She got herself comfy on the couch instead, TV playing _Rambo_ reruns at a low volume as she tried to polish off the last few chapters of Hemingway. Jess's notes get more frequent the further into the pages you go, and now, just around fifteen pages to go before she's finished, the page is scattered with them. Some have been crossed out, some are answers to questions from previous pages, others are just observations. She could easily finish this in ten minutes, twenty so she can make her own notes, but Lane plops onto the couch next to her, and Lorelai perches on the edge of the coffee table. 

"So," Lorelai begins, "Tell us about Dean."

She did promise when she got back from her walk with Jess last night. Lorelai had been two seconds away from getting on her knees by Rory's door to hear about what happened with Dean, but Rory, maybe feeling a little high on the night with Jess, was too tired to venture into _that_ story and promised Lorelai would hear all about it to her heart's content the next morning. She wasn't aware Lane would apart of that deal, but it's Lane, and she'd have to be told soon enough anyway. And they go to school together; she'd rather her best friend hear it from her side first before Dean's.

"There wasn't a big argument or anything," Rory starts, "I just... wanted out."

"Why?" Lane questions, sliding under the blanket alongside Rory. "I thought things were alright."

"Yeah! Just last week you two were yelling at the TV together." Lorelai pipes up.

Rory shrugs, "I don't know. He was fine, he was great, but there were... pressures - nothing like that!" She exclaims when she's Lorelai's face harden, "He just seemed ready to keep going forward and I liked where we were, kind of. And, some things I couldn't ignore - like, he argued with Tristan every chance he could, and I understand Tristan purposely rubbed him the wrong way but Dean always started annoyed by it, never let himself get worked up. And then that fight at Chilton, during the dance, and he purposely told Paris that housewife-dinner thing I did for him even when I asked him not too. He made me feel bad when I just wanted to spend some time at home by myself when I didn't want to spend time with him, whether he meant to or not it just made me feel guilty..."

She trailed off, feeling better now that it's off her chest. It doesn't sound so stupid out loud like it did in her head. But she had started talking and was finding it difficult to stop suddenly. 

"He was a good first boyfriend," She shrugged, voice quiet. Neither Lane nor her mom has tried to speak up and she doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, "But I don't even think I ever wanted to move forward with it. I liked where we were, liked where we used to be, and he just kept wanting to just _go_ and keep moving, and... it would have been wrong of me to stay when I didn't want the same thing."

"You weren't on the same page." Lane offers.

"Exactly."

Lorelai reaches for her hand, squeezes her fingers against her palm lovingly, "He _was_ a good first boyfriend. You're lucky you got that first time around, but if you think it's time to move on, then that's okay too." She sounds a little upset like she wanted to keep Dean around longer. 

Lane leaves two hours later before their take out shows up so she doesn't go home smelling like Al's Pancake World or her mom would have questions. Lorelai dishes up their food, Rory picks a movie, _Hardbodies_ , and they eat in silence for half the movie.

"Are you upset?"

Lorelai looks a little startled, puts her plate down on the table where she was once sat. "Why would I be upset, Hun?"

"The Dean thing."

"Babe, that wasn't my relationship."

"Yes, but, you liked Dean. You two got on," Rory points out, "And when I was telling the story you looked upset at the end."

Lorelai sighs, "I think he was great for you." She says gently, Rory tenses anyway, "Most first relationships don't pan out that way. I think, maybe, you were both on different pages but he thought you were on the same-"

"But I wasn't!" 

"I know that Rory, but did you-"

"What? Did I _tell_ him? Of course, I told him. I told him I didn't want to hang out, I wanted to watch TV with you because it's Sunday and that's our thing. He said it was one show, we could tape it. He was talking about college and moving in together during college and _love_ and I shouldn't feel guilty for any of that in a relationship."

"I know, Rory-"

"And he was always talking to you!" She blurts out. If she thought she couldn't stop herself before, she had another thing coming. Lorelai looks a little taken aback at this. "He was always talking to you," She repeats, a little more collected this time, "If there was a problem between me and him, he would talk to you. If he wanted to know something, like when the newest paper issue is printed, he would ask you before me. Anything about my interests, _anything Mom_ , chances are he would talk to you first and then me. He was adding you into the dynamic and that's normally fine but-"

"There are limits."

Rory nods. She feels guilty that she doesn't feel guilty for the outburst. "I wanted a relationship with a boy, Mom. Not a relationship with a boy _and_ my Mom. I liked that you got along. You're my best friend and anyone, _anyone_ , who I end up should respect that, but my relationship is _my_ relationship. Near the end, it felt like everyone else was apart of it except for me."

Lorelai's silent again starts pushing rice around her plate. "No more Dean talk?" She offers.

"Thanks." Rory sighed, pushing her cheek to her mother's shoulder. "So if this is lunch, what's dinner?"

"Luke's, duh."

* * *

Jess likes the music loud. It used to drown out the sound of New York, of whichever boyfriend Liz was fighting with that time, of the neighbors having roughly the same argument in the next apartment. Now, it drowns out the noise of the diner, of the bell, of the cash register getting stuck, of the pans in the kitchen, the freezer door slamming shut in the storage room. Luke told him to turn it down, Jess ignored the yell. Taylor complained about the noise, Luke told him to turn it up.

Luke dragged him two towns over to pick out a bed that morning, ignored Jess saying a camping cot would be fine, had rambled on about needing an 'actual' bed and not something they can fold away and shove in a closet. Ignored Jess pointing out that's probably the better option seeing as the apartment is cramped enough as it is without adding extra furniture.

Jess isn't too fussed with the mess. Reminds him of New York. Liz moved them into a tiny two-bedroom apartment when he was fifteen. She had started AA, wanted to live closer so she had no excuse not to go. Turns out, the liquor store on the corner was enough motivation as it was. Liz was an obsessive hoarder but had gotten slightly saner whenever a new boyfriend came into the picture. She'd have an epiphany and throw out everything, _everything_ , and start from scratch with no care of the money it would cost. One week the apartment would look brand new, the next it would look like they have lived there all their lives and never cleaned once. Jess got used to this by the time he was eight. Stopped bringing things he made at school home; had seen one too many mothers day cards thrown in the trash with no care. If he was forced to take them home (his teachers clocked on soon enough, started writing his name on them when he never bothered, put it in his bag themselves at times) he kept them in his room. He never bothered with any real hobbies. He liked football a bit, had one tucked under his bed, alongside a baseball mitt and ball his friend got him for his sixteenth. Other than that his room was just a library. Books were stacked everywhere, clothes were strewn around too when he got too lazy to put them in the closet or the laundry.

So this, the mess in Luke's, is nothing to him but Luke's forcing him to sort it out, throw anything away he doesn't want to keep, filter through some books they can put in the attic, put away anything else he wants to keep. He's not so much bothered by the 'throwing out' aspect, probably clocked onto Liz's ways, said that there was attic and basement storage if he was desperate to keep them.

The bed's half-built now. Luke had started, then the diner got busy and Ceasar called for help. Jess is sat now, two screws hanging between his teeth as he screws another one in. _Come As You Are_ is blasting, he's bobbing his head along, the sleeve of his sweater straining to the side as he screws the panels in tight. He misses the knock of the door, misses when it opens, head whips up when someone turns down the stereo.

And there's Rory in jeans, a tee-shirt and a jacket, scarf in hand. She looks out of place in all the mess, but he sees her nod appreciatively at the piles of books around the room before her eyes slid to his.

"Not a Nirvana fan?" He asks, taking one screw from his mouth to start drawing another panel into the two he's just secured.

"Fan of hearing it." Rory quipped, drops her scarf onto a box of books, lays her jacket over it a moment later. "Luke's going to close in ten minutes, said he'll pack some food and we'll eat at mine."

Jess nods, meets her eyes again when she kneels down opposite him and steadies the piece of wood in his hands. 

"So," She says as Jess makes quick work of screwing all the pieces together, they both dust off their knees and start sliding in the bottom panels, "You have a bed now."

He hums, "I like where your head's at Rory, but your mother's downstairs and I have yet to make an actual impression on her."

"That's not-" She's turned beet-red at the implication, Jess starts laughing, dodging out the way when she aims the screwdriver for his shoulder. "I _meant_ , you got a bed now, so... seems pretty permanent."

Jess pauses. Rory isn't looking anymore, is slotting the panels into their pockets on the side of the bed she's on. "Yeah," He mumbles, "Seems so." He feels like he sounds at least a little happy about it, but the way Rory looks at him with questioning eyes he knows he didn't sell it as such. 

It's not that he's unhappy, per se, about Stars Hollow. It wouldn't be his first choice or his 100th, come to think of it, but he's managed to accept in the two nights he's been here that, at least for, he's staying. Luke seems a little worried. Jess will be eighteen soon and can choose after that where he goes. When he was with Liz he had five escape routes he could list off without thinking about it, another couple in the editing stages. Had them ready even before he turned sixteen. He's startled at the realization he hasn't even thought of _one_ since moving.

Rory doesn't outright question it, but doesn't say anything else either. There's a lull. Jess is trying to figure out if it's awkward or if he's doing that himself.

"I usually run." He blurts out. 

Rory's hands still on the wood, she looks at him. There's no expectation on her face. Jess lets his shoulders unwind when he sees that she's schooled her expression into an open one. It practically reads _Talk if you want, if not then don't_. She looks tired, he realized at the same time, like it's been a long day for her. Jess knows that look, it's _his_ look.

"I make a break for it, usually," He sits down, folds one leg to his chest, the other stretches out, slightly bent at his knee. Rory sits down too, crosses her knees, folds her hands in her laps. There's a bed frame in the way of them, but the gap is still small enough that he could stretch out his foot a little bit more and tap her shin. "Liz... it's difficult, living with Liz. Running away just feels easier."

"Where do you go?"

He shrugs. "Overnight? My friends' couches. Their folks stopped asking questions after the first couple of times. If I left in the morning I'd be calm again by evening, could usually manage the night back there before we started another argument."

He stops. That's all he wants to say. Wanted to say less, really. Blames the town. The man sat next to him on the bus cracked a joke when they saw the sign, something about it sounding like some _Sabrina_ town. 

"I finished Hemingway." Rory cuts into the silence. A welcome distraction. 

Books. He knows books. He can talk about books. Can talk with Rory about books. This is neutral territory for them, even if they have some opposing opinions and critiques. Books; the safe haven for them. Rory has her Dean issues, Jess has his Jess issues, but they don't have book issues.

"Yeah? Got any more notes for me?"

She nods, looks a little pleased that she managed to lighten his mood a bit. "You know I do," He grins at her, gets starting on the bed again, "It's back in my room."

"Dinner conversation's sorted then."

Rory helps slot the rest of the panels in, helps heave the mattress onto the frame, and even digs out the new sheets from the carrier by the door. Jess fits the comforter into its sheet, shoves the two pillows into theirs, as Rory gets the mattress sheet on. Jess sorts the comforter and the blanket, Rory sorts the pillows. Without discussion, they both stand at the foot, backs to the bed, and fall backward together.

Rory lets out a little content sound when the comforter practically melts underneath them. Jess tries not to think too much of that sound given where they're lying. 

"I finished Rand."

Books; neutral ground. His body autonomy works, he knows it works, he doesn't need to give Rory insight on that. Back to neutral ground.

"Yeah? Got any notes for me?"

"You know I do."

She breathes out a laugh. 

"Gonna give me Howl now?" He props himself onto an elbow. His eyes drift up the length of her arm, folded along her chest, watches the way her hair's fanned out above her head, the way the lamp across the room highlights the barest hints of red hidden among the brown.

"You know," Her cheeks are a little pink, "I found out something."

He hums.

"I have two copies of _Atlas Shrugged_."

It's his turn to groan, lets himself drop back down. Rory laughs as their shoulders bump together. It's a single bed, they both have a leg hanging over the edge, his arm is now on top of hers. There's no room for more movement. Her arm's warm, even though the wool of his sweater.

"I am _not_ reading it." He declares, squints his eyes in a challenge when she pushes herself to her elbow, stares at him with those doe-eyes from the first night when she tried to convince him she's trustworthy.

She's definitely trustworthy. But he gets chills thinking about the fact that this girl in front of him, hanging slightly _over_ him, could take his heart and rip into two jagged shreds. He compresses a shiver at the knowledge that he'd just sew it back up and let her do it again. Bites his cheek when he thinks that he'd let her do it on repeat, as many times as she'd like if he gets to keep her. 

She opens her mouth to say something, but there are boots on the stairs and they spring apart. Jess is quick, kneels to pick up the screwdriver and leftover screws. Takes more care than necessary to fit them in the right space in Luke's toolbox. Rory turns her back to the door, runs her fingers along the spines of the books stacked on the windowsill.

The moment's been broken, but the chill racing up and down Jess's spine is still very much active and he schools his breathing (didn't realize it was uneven, _was Rory's?_ ) just as Luke appears in the doorway.

"You two ready?"

Rory's quick out the door leaving her scarf behind. Jess turns to Luke, who seems to chalk up Rory's fast pace to the Gilmore Hunger. Jess forgets the scarf too, even if his brain's telling him to pick it up. He toes on his boots, follows Luke down the stairs, and shrugs on his jacket. Lorelai and Rory have gone off ahead of them, Lorelai's clutching a large box to her chest like it's a life-line.

"You okay?" Luke raises an eyebrow at him as Jess fumbles with the key in his hand.

He manages to lock the diner up, taps to make sure _The Fountainhead_ is in his back pocket. Schools his shoulders and face again, "Peachy."

* * *

Luke makes a strangled noise when he sees the takeaway cartoons in the fridge, the bags in the trash. Lorelai cracks a joke and Rory escapes to her room to put her coat away. She scolds herself for forgetting her scarf. _It's in the diner_ , she reminds herself, _you can grab it later_.

And then Jess is at her door. He's not in, his toes are just skimming the frame of the carpet, and he seems a little unsure. They catch each other's eyes, she gives him a shy smile, a small nod and he crosses the threshold. 

This is fine, her mom and Luke aren't even four feet away in the kitchen. The door's open. Rory can just stay far from her bed, make sure there's no repeat of what just happened ten minutes ago. She's _just_ broken up with Dean (okay, six days ago, but the talk with her mother a few hours ago makes it feel like it's not been that long) and there's no plausible explanation for what just happened.

 _Everyone does that when a new bed is just made_ , she's been repeating to herself, was telling herself that even when they were still lying next to each other. Jess was warm through his sweater, his shoulder and arm were a nice heavy weight on top of her own. When he rested on his elbow just slightly over she could smell whatever product he used in his hair. Could smell the cologne on his clothes. She hadn't pegged him for a cologne kind of guy. Luke's a deodorant-and-go kind of guy, she presumed he'd be the same. She'd spotted hair gel in the bathroom when she was taking her coat off in their apartment though, so it seems Jess puts a little bit more effort into his appearance.

She sees the way Jess seems to avoid the bed as much as possible too. He's at her bookshelves, his fingers curving along the grooves of the spines as he reads the titles. 

"Aren't we hooked on phonics."

She shrugs, even though she can't see him. Gasps a little, steps forward and their shoulders brush as she opens the middle drawer underneath the shelves. She feels Jess tense, but he doesn't move away, sees him peak at her through the corner of her eyesight.

 _There's a boy in your room_ , her brain sings. Dean was in here once. Just quickly, putting her bag behind the door. He lingered a little, asked about the notice board. Left again when dinner arrived. Jess has taken more time looking at the books than Dean had the whole room. _There's a boy in your room_.

Jess makes an appreciative little hum in the back of his throat, tilts his head towards her to look at the titles of these. He reads quickly, probably owns most of these himself. "Oh, and-" She interrupts herself, steps towards the bed without realizing. She falters just for a second, then lifts the covers from the side and shows her collection stashed under there too.

"Really hooked on phonics."

"You're one to talk."

He crouches beside her, picks a book from the top of one of the middle piles. _The Name of The Rose._

"Eco's alright."

"Wasn't really my favorite." She shrugs, tries to ignore the feeling of their shoulders rubbing again. He must have hung his jacket by the door.

He hums again, she likes that sound, and they both move to stand straight again. She picks up Hemingway from her desk. He pulls out Rand from his pocket. He sits on the bed, a little hesitantly. She sits at the other end.

Rand's back in her hands once more as they switch. She flicks through, reads what he's scrawled across the pages, and bites her lip in concentration, tries to ignore the rustling of paper as he scores through her own thoughts. 

Lorelai's the mediator when they start talking about each other's opinions once they've read up. Jess argues that Hemingway has good points, writes better than _that political nut, Rand_ and Rory defends Rand, points out that Jess had even agreed on a few of her points - waves the book in his face as emphasis. They stop for dinner. Luke had chucked the burgers in the oven for a few minutes to reheat them, make the buns a little bit crispy, and is caught slapping Lorelai's hand away when she goes to steal another fry.

"Sookie wants to host a dinner," Lorelai says. Jess and Rory had taken up residence at the table. He's in the middle of making salt and pepper dip, tuts when Rory pours a little ketchup in but lets it slide - ignores Luke's eyes on him.

"What for?"

"Jess."

He pauses mid-dip, knocks his elbow back into Rory's when she tries nudging him out the way. "What for?" He parrots Rory.

She waves a fry casually, munches on it before answering, "A welcome to the town kind of thing. No big deal, just us four and her and Jackson. She likes to cook."

"She's really good," Rory is nodding along, "The best."

"Hey!"

"Luke, you're the coffee man," Lorelai taps him on the arm and carries on, "You're here for our coffee and cheeseburger demands. You've never once made me Panzanella."

"If you knew how many vegetables go into that, you wouldn't eat it."

Jess is nudged again, turns, and meets Rory's eyes. "You okay?" She asks.

He nods, swallows, and nods towards the mayo. "Pass that over."

* * *

Luke agrees to the dinner. Jess tries to get out of it, 'accidentally' drops a few nickels into the deep fryer, claims he should stay behind to filter it all out, and make sure they're not jammed. Ten minutes later and Luke still has a grip on his elbow as they stand at the Gilmore's front door. It smells good, he'll admit that, but dinner parties aren't his idea of a fun night. Lorelai lets them in, he makes a beeline to Rory's room once he's introduced to Sookie, Jackson and Jackson's lemons.

Rory's typing at her laptop, probably homework, but smiles over her shoulder at him. Saves the document, shuts the lid, and stands up.

"These open?" He asks, tapping the window with his fingertips. 

"Yeah," She says, "Just unlatch and push." She even demonstrates. Jess thinks it's a little cute, ignores it.

"Great, shall we?"

"Shall we what?"

"Bail." 

She looks confused. "We can't bail."

"Why not?"

"It's a Tuesday night in Stars Hollow, everything's shut. The twenty-four-hour mini-mart closed twenty minutes ago."

He shrugs, gets the window unlatched finally. "So, we'll walk around a little, look at our shoes."

"Jess," She tugs at his sleeve, "Sookie made a ton of really great food and I'm starving and it may not seem like it right at this moment but it's gonna be fun."

Jess is beginning to think she has permanent doe-eyes, can't decide if it's that or the fact that they're so blue that wins him over. She offers a soda, he claims he's got it, feels only a little guilty when he slips out the back door when she heads towards the others, his back left pocket just a little heavier than when he arrived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fell out with Grammarly A LOT writing this. it's not a fan of my writing style.


	4. Chapter 4

Luke got mad at him for ditching the dinner. Got loud when he came back, obviously didn't know Lorelai had already chewed him out on her porch for it. Jess listened, probably looked like he didn't, nodded along when Luke would interrupt himself to make sure he was following along. By the time morning rolled around and Jess said he wasn't going to school, Luke just sighed into his hand, mumbling something about hoping the principle will give him some wiggle room about Jess needing to settle in.

He gets given a list of chores, stuff that hasn't been done in years, probably won't ever get done again. It keeps him away from the front counter, the seating area, has him slipping between the kitchen and the storeroom. His arms ache from lugging around giant boxes and old equipment to the dumpster, but he doesn't need to interact with anyone, doesn't have to look Lorelai in the eye when she comes in for her regular coffee. He takes an extra cold shower during his lunch break to freshen himself up, reads a bit of Howl, jots a few notes down, gets back to work.

Rory seems perceptive enough, might notice her book's gone, and will presume Jess took it, but, then again, she already had three books stacked on her bedside table, presumably her next reads. She might not notice. It doesn't matter anyway. Jess finishes his list at half two. Takes a stroll around the town for a few hours, finishes Howl, is on his way to Rory's by nine. He stops only to retie his laces and catches Rory coming out a supply store.

She spots him too, freezes for a minute. He winces a little at the look on her face, angry but not ultimately surprised. He _had_ told her his method of coping is just running away, and he lived up to it - all in the space of twenty-four hours. 

"Hi," She's the first to talk. They're back in the middle of the street, but Jess has learned that it doesn't really matter anyway because by seven Stars Hollow's roads are a ghost town of their own.

"Hey." He rocks back on his heels. "Look, I-"

"You don't need to apologize about Sookie's dinner." She interrupts him with a shrug, it would seem careless if it weren't for the look in her eyes.

He sighs, nods a little, "I don't do social activities all that well."

"Your Great Escape kind of clarified that."

"Are you mad at me?"

"What gives you that idea?"

"Rory, you just said I didn't need to apologize-"

"To _me_ ," She tries to level her voice, tries not to draw attention to them. This is probably the most exciting thing that'll happen on Wednesday night. "I didn't cook all that food to get to know you, or take time out of their schedules to _buy_ the ingredients and _then_ cook after _hours_ of planning and-"

"Breath."

"-then all for you to sneak out when no one was watching."

"Your mom already gave me this-"

"Well, you'll get it again." She's stern. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, arms crossed to battle the slight breeze picking up. "And another thing! You are two completely different people. You can sit and talk with me for hours about books and authors and some weird pizza-store-front-for-the-mafia or whatever in New York. You know all your vowels and consonants, can string together words with more than two syllables, and then someone else comes in the room and we need a thought bubble above your head to hold a conversation that isn't just _'huh'._ What even _is that?_ "

He tries not to laugh when she pitches her voice at the 'huh', trying to match the way he rasps it out. He has to bite his lip to stop any sound coming out.

"Maybe I don't want to talk to them."

"Well, it's rude. They put in effort and-"

"Hey, I didn't ask for that." He interrupts this time. "I never agreed to that dinner, Luke dragged me along. I didn't _want_ to meet Sookie or Jackson or the _lemons_."

She pauses, looks at her toes, "There isn't normally lemons involved."

"Oh no? Next time I bump into him is he gonna be juggling oranges?"

"Stop," She tries to make it stern again, but her shoulders shake a little, "I thought-" Another sigh, she looks shy again. Jess can't decide if he likes shy Rory or confident Rory more; he has _got_ to stop thinking of her like that. "I thought we were friends."

"We are." He sounds a little taken aback. There's so much conviction in the way he says it, he can feel it. Can see it in the way Rory looks at him. "We are," He says again, taking a step forward to wrap a hand around her elbow and tap their toes together. "But I'm _your_ friend Rory. That doesn't mean I need to buddy up to everyone else. I don't want to be friends with them."

"What's so wrong with them?" The bag she's holding bumps against his knee. 

"Apart from the lemons?" That makes her laugh, but she still looks expectant, and he huffs out a breath, "I still don't know if I'm staying here." He says it so quietly, can feel Rory lean in to hear better but he's staring adamantly at his shoes. 

"But... you have a bed now."

"I had a bed in New York, Ror." He points out, she closes her mouth as he continues, "Never stopped me before. Luke's not a guardian on any paperwork, Liz can decide she wants me back and go to CPS if I refuse. She won't, but she never really does anything people expect her to do anyway. And..."

"You don't know if you want to."

She looks a little heartbroken. Jess wants to freak out. It's only been four days since he stepped foot off that bus, since he met Rory and -

"I don't want to get attached if I'm just going to let them all down."

\- and he's already attached, Rory could turn those eyes on him, beg him to stay, and it would be so easy to let her guide him back to Stars Hollow. Let her set his life in Stars Hollow, say 'now stay' and he would. Like a damn lap dog. 

She still looks heartbroken. It hurts Jess in a way he can't describe, hurts even more when she asks "Why do you just presume you're going to let us down."

 _Us_ , not 'me'. He's not sure why he'd rather hear her say the other one.

"I have a track record of it."

She shakes her head, "I think you set your own expectations, Jess. You said it yourself, and so has Luke, Liz is difficult, isn't really there even when she is. Maybe you tried for so long that when there's no reaction you think you failed."

He should take a step back, put some distance between them. Put the whole state between them. Go to the other side of the country, let America be the distance between him and Rory. The thought is heaven and hell wrapped in one.

"Liz never cared. I can't remember when she stopped, if she ever did to begin with."

"That'll do a lot to a kid."

"I've already let Luke down."

"You disappointed Luke. Embarrassed him a little. No one ever said anything about letting him down."

"Since when did you care?"

She shrugs, "Since you started talking to me."

He wants to hug her or wants her to hug him - whichever. Wants to pull the first move and not make any at all. Rory makes the decision for him instead. Her arms wind around his waist, one slipping under his jacket to hold the fabric of his sweater in a fist. Her bag slaps against the back of his knees, kickstarts his brain again, forces him to wrap his arms around her too - one around her back, the other around her neck. She's the perfect height to rest her nose just in the crook of his shoulder, his lips brush her ear when he leans his cheek against her temple.

"Jess."

He hums, doesn't trust his voice.

"You can't let your friends down." She can definitely feel the way his breath hitches against her cheek. His hand stutters in its path rubbing up and down her back slowly. The wind picks up a little, she hugs him a little tighter when a gust of it throws some leaves at their feet, blasts cold air wherever they aren't covered.

"I'll apologize to Sookie," He finds himself saying, "And your mom."

"My mom?"

"She caught me on the porch when I was leaving. Chewed me out about it. I might have said some things, too."

She nods, inhales a deep breath, and steps back from him, out of the little space they created. Like a movie, the quiet buzz of Stars Hollow falls back into his ears. Someone a few storefronts down slams a window closed, someone's dog barks. 

He digs into his pocket, pulls out Howl, and hands it back over to her. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Dodger."

* * *

Four days pass by and Stars Hollow has held two impromptu town meetings about Jess. Luke wasn't aware of the first one and so Lorelai made sure to drag him along, where he chewed Taylor out, and the rest of the attendants of the meeting, about them not giving the kid a chance and that's it only fair ("after _everything_ that _boy_ has gone through") to let him have a shot. When the next meeting is called, and everyone is up in arms about the fake-police-investigation in front of Doose's market ( _and_ the disappearance of Babette's gnomes, _and_ the school's baseballs), Luke pinches his nose so hard it leaves a faint bruise. He chews everyone out again, defends Jess because Jess isn't here to do it himself, and Rory feels bad for Luke because she knows Jess wouldn't do it given the chance anyway - he'd sit in his chair, maybe smirk a little, let everyone say what they want, maybe give a little 'huh'. 

Lorelai knows this too, rubs Luke's shoulder when he sits back down, and neither of the Gilmores says anything about it when they get home. 

Dean drops by five days after Rory's reunited with Howl. Rory's throat gets all twisted, she's surprised to have to fight tears back when she looks at him. He looks a little rough, like the idea of coming to this house was torture for him and that he'd rather be anywhere else. But hidden in that, he looks like he's holding down a glimmer of hope, which he lets fly free when Rory invites him in.

(It's below freezing, what is she going to do? _Freeze_? She's been raised better). 

"Hi." It's hoarse and rough from his throat, and not the way his voice normally sounds. Rory had tensed every time she had heard someone that sounds like him in the street or heard someone yell his name across the town square when she got off the bus from Chilton, but she'd yet to actually hear _him_. She remembers thinking she could listen to him talk about nonsense for years, just let him tumble into a spiral as she does, because she _likes_ his voice. This one, though, the rough one that sounds a little vulnerable and a little un-used, is so _not Dean_ and she hates it. Her skin starts to crawl at the realization, hates that she hates it.

"Hey."

It's as if he had expected more, wanted her to start off. He's wearing an old hockey jersey that hangs baggy around his shoulders and his hair is unkempt. Rory doesn't know why she pictures Jess standing next to him - wearing his New York Americans hockey jersey that sits just right, his hair always slicked up and curly, sometimes with one loose curl laying just above his left eyebrow when he hunches over the counter to write out an order ticket. His voice was husky the last time she'd seen him - he hadn't slept much yesterday, fell asleep during his lunch break, and woke up just minutes before Rory dropped by for her after school coffee. She remembers her skin erupting into goosebumps up her arms at the sound of it, wanted to kiss him and wrap him in a blanket at the same time, let him sleep constantly just to wake him up every now and again to keep hearing it. 

She finds she'd much rather be with Jess right now, than standing in her front room with Dean.

"How- So, how you been?" He stumbles out.

Jess doesn't stutter, or second, guess what he wants to say. He'll say it or nothing at all. If he were here, he'd probably give Dean a snort.

Rory crosses her arms, tries not to cringe, shakes thoughts of Jess away, "Good." She says simply, nods a little, wants Dean to just tell her why he's here and then leave. She wants him to leave so she can cry and get over it. She looks at him now and doesn't think of the way just weeks ago she'd have butterflies and the consistent want to kiss him. She looks at him now and remembers the tears she let out in the Chilton bathroom over his fight, remembers the way her stomach would drop with guilt when he'd convince her to ditch her mom or Lane and join him that evening, remembers how any time he'd start a serious conversation he'd start it with " _so, I was talking to Lorelai-_ ".

Remembers the way he got mad when she couldn't tell him she loved him that night they broke up. The way he'd driven off, left her at Gypsy's. 

She doesn't ask how he is. Worries it's a setup. Doesn't care that it's impolite. 

He nods anyway, gives a small, shy tug of his lips to try and mimic a smile, "Erm, I dropped some of your stuff off?"

"Oh yeah," Rory jabs her thumb behind her shoulder towards her room, "My mom put it on my bed. Thanks."

"Good." He nods again. 

"I have some of yours, hold on." She leaves the room quickly, tries not to run. She hadn't emptied the box yet, didn't want to deal with a box of _her_ things that _he_ touched last. Still doesn't want to, but she doesn't want that box in her room anyway, with his name written across the side - probably leftover from their move from Chicago months ago. She dumps whatever's hers on her bed, hurries into the corner of her closet where everything she'd ever gotten from him or he left here accidentally has been living since they broke it off. 

In the last second, before she leaves again, she slides her thumb over the bracelet he made her. She's not worn it since that night, has let it sit around the doorknob. Doesn't think twice before shoving it in the box and shutting her door behind her. 

Dean's still where he was stood when he left. He looks a little afraid of moving, almost as if Rory had set up traps around her home specifically for Dean and the one spot he's randomly chosen to stand in is the only safe ground. He swallows when she thrusts the box towards him, considerably lighter than when he was last holding it, considering most of the stuff he returned to her was textbooks from when she was at Stars Hollow or chunky coats from after Friday Night Dinners. He's only left a few DVDs, a handful of tee shirts, not much else.

She sees the moment he catches sight of the bracelet at the bottom. His jaw sets and shoulders tense underneath the overly large jersey. Her mind flashes back to the way Jess's shoulders filled out his jersey. Really starts wishing Dean would leave. She's uncomfortable.

And this is _her house dammit._

"This is it, huh?" He looks up at her, eyes a little sad but there's something dark under there. She hears Jess repeat 'huh' in her ear, lets the knowledge that whatever anger is in Dean right now will be the last she'll deal with for a while, whispers back 'huh' to imaginary-Jess as if she and him have a little, cheery secret at Dean's expense.

"Yeah, looks like it."

"No chance of winning you back?"

She doesn't grant him an answer. Hopes the blank look on her face is enough.

He leaves, she locks the door after him, waits a good fifty seconds for him to have enough time to turn the corner towards town (hopes Babette hasn't caught him because she doesn't have enough in her to talk about _that_ piece of town gossip), slides to the floor and cries.

It's not the first time she'd cried over him. She cried that night when he drove off - cried at Gypsy's, right by the gas pumps, and again when she closed her bedroom door - and cried again when she took the bracelet off for the last time. Those times had been full-bellied, gasping breaths for air; some real red-faced-runny-nose-ugly-crying moments where her mom hadn't said anything, just pushed her hair from her face and rocked her until she calmed down, then curled around her in bed until she fell asleep. 

This time, it's less dramatic but still hurts. They didn't say goodbye, but Rory's silence of his last question was as good as goodbye in itself. Getting over a boy when you've avoided him is easy, but seeing him for the first time since the breakup (which was three _weeks_ ago) twisted the knife one final time. She lets herself cry, promises herself that this is the last time she'll cry over Dean Forester, and finds her way back to her room. 

It's stupid to think it feels different now all of his things have gone - she'd hidden them from her sight two days after they broke up, hadn't seen them until today - but there's a shift in the air when she walks in, a weight off her shoulders. The pile on her bed doesn't look as menacing now and manages to put the few cardigans in the laundry basket to wash over any remnants of Dean without touching them for too long. There are a few bookmarks she'd left in his books that he's taken out and given back, but they're old and Rory throws them out without a second thought. It leaves her with two things; a crumpled receipt (for a meal she didn't even have with him?) and a book. 

_Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_ , a book he had chosen randomly from her pile and she knew he only read it when she was around because whenever he would open it, it would be where he had stopped the last time with her. She had tried to get him to take something else, she liked this one, but didn't have too many opinions on it as of yet (hadn't read it as often as others) and wanted to get him into something with a bit more grit they could talk about after.

She should have learnt earlier that, whilst he's brilliant with pop culture and picks up on her and her mom's banter over crappy TV, books is just something that's incredibly hit and miss with Dean. He likes reading, sure, but not Rory-level reading, and doesn't stray into her genres the few times they went to the bookstore together. 

She throws away the receipt, has just picked up the book to put away when there's a knock on her door. Her Mom's away for the weekend, spa trip with Emily ( _lucky Lorelai_ ) and there's a sense of dread that it's Dean for a moment. Despite the cold shiver as she leaves her room, she hopes that at some point she can look Dean in the eyes again and be civil, not feel the need for a jacket and a comforting hug when she hears his name.

Except it's not Dean and Rory kind of wants to rub her eyes to make sure she's seeing right. She has a book in her hands (a _stupid_ book, she curses herself, he knows what she's reading, she was gushing about it today before school to him), very on-brand for her, he barely bats an eye. 

"Delivery."

Jess is stood, a huge box of food, Luke's logo peeking over the top, giving her a classic little smirk, at her doorstep. 

"What are you doing here?" Way to go, Gilmore, why don't you just shove your actual foot in your mouth? Would be less lame than whatever falls out of it whenever he shows up.

"Luke didn't know how long your Mom would be gone for. Wanted to make sure you didn't starve."

"I was going to order Indian." She says, even more lamely, still holding the doorknob in one hand, that _stupid_ book in the other. 

He raises an eyebrow, rests his weight onto his other foot, "And burn the house down after? The only way to get rid of the smell."

She stutters a little, bites her cheek harshly and steps aside, ushering him into the kitchen. "So," He says, casually, already pulling food out of the box, "Your mom?"

"Only one night."

"Good. I'll let Luke know."

She hums, they joke that with all the food here they could feed twelve people, then with Rory here six, with Jess it's down to four. She doesn't ask if he wants to stay, hands him a plate and gets started on making salt and pepper dip for the fries. When she's done, he's already loaded her plate with a burger, fries, onion rings, hands her over a bag of chicken wings with the sweet BBQ sauce he hates and refuses to touch. They argue over books as they eat - or, more accurately, argue over the books they both like, but have conflicting opinions on - and Rory tries _so hard_ not to think that this is what she wanted with Dean. 

Jess hangs around for a bit after they finish. He has the dishes washed and dried, trash flung back in the box when she leaves her room after changing into comfier clothes, and she almost feels bad that he did that when he dragged the food all the way over here anyway. 

"So, Luke was wondering how long my Mom was gone for?"

If Rory wants to kid herself, she'd swear she saw his shoulders tense for just a second before he nodded, not meeting her eyes. "Yep."

"Oh."

"Why, did you think I came all this way just to see you?"

"No."

"I didn't."

"Okay."

"Just wanted to get out, that's all."

"Okay."

"Stretch my legs."

"Okay."

He's looking at her now, she's giving him a little smile, lips closed, and the corners of his tug up briefly before they retire to the couch. _Rambo_ 's back on. They sit at opposite ends of the couch. Halfway through, she moves her legs to curl on the couch. Ten minutes later, his toes are tapping against her arm and her feet are in his lap. His hand's enclosed around her sock, thumb occasionally brushing her ankle and it makes her shiver a little.

She walks him to the door later, where she considers hugging him like they did last week but she's worried that was a line they'll never cross again. He seems to hesitate a little, leans towards her briefly and then away again. She steps out to the porch with him, doesn't argue when she notices _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_ tucked into his back pocket. All of Babette's lights are off, they both clock that at the same time and suddenly his arms are around her neck and she's trying to breathe in his scent again without looking a creep.

She didn't get to appreciate how solid he feels when she wraps her arms around him, so she self-indulges this time and squeezes his waist a little, curls the back of his jacket in her fists and closes her eyes. He has a bit of stubble along his cheek and jaw and it feels funny when it rubs against her neck but it also makes her a stomach warm and she doesn't feel embarrassed when she nuzzles a little closer, stepping further into his chest. 

"Goodnight, Ror." He makes no effort to pull away, whispers it into the collar of her sweatshirt, jaw working against her neck, scratches it a little.

"Goodnight, Jess."

They wait for a beat, then pull away. He gives a smirk, a bit bigger than normal, a hint of teeth, and then he's walking away, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders a little hunched to battle the cold. Rory feels giddy when she's brushing her teeth a few moments later, feeling warm inside and keeping an eye trained on the red patch of her neck where his stubble left a small scratch.


	5. Chapter 5

Whatever line they crossed that night in the street, they've well and truly sprinted across this time. They don't see each other that morning. Lorelai comes back from her spa retreat and refuses to leave the safety of her own bed, somewhere Emily has never been and tainted, for a few hours before being bribed with enough coffee at Luke's to fuel _at least_ twenty retired racing horses back into first place at the next derby. 

Luke's manning the counter, the place is packed with builders and noises of construction everywhere, and Jess is behind him, leaning casually against the alcove to the kitchen, counting up order totals. He didn't appreciate Rory pointing out that he's always the one counting, told her that's why he never pays attention in his math class, gets enough of it at work. He hears her come up to the counter, tries not to look up because he doesn't want to look eager to see her. He'd come back to the diner last night still able to smell her perfume on the collar of his jacket, the scent of her shampoo still lingering on his shirt, the feeling of her resting her feet on his thighs still heavy against his jeans, and he had to take a _very_ cold shower before falling into bed.

So, he keeps his head trained on the order tickets, tries to remember if Miss Patty ordered three doughnuts or two and that's when Rory starts to drop the bomb.

"Hey, Luke."

Luke's already pouring the coffees by this point, his entire body still locked into a tense stance whenever he hears the sound of a drill clanging against a pipe, or Tom's feet thundering on the stairs, but it relaxes when Rory suddenly thanks him for the food hamper. Which is funny, because Jess's head snaps up, and just as Luke's shoulders fall in confusion, the muscles in Jess's lock-up real tight.

"Hey Luke, I think they hit the water line again."

Luke stomps off, threatening Tom with some really creative ways of killing him, completely forgetting about the people watching him. Jess steps up to the register, tries hard to ignore Rory's knowing look. 

"Interesting." She's _musing_. Her eyes are squinting at him and she's _musing_.

"Hey, you wanna pay?"

She's leaning her crossed arms on the counter now, tilted up to her toes, _musing_. Jess tries to ignore that he can smell her shampoo again. "I don't think Luke knew anything about the food last night."

"That'll be twelve fifty."

"Which means you lied about why you came over," She counts out thirteen dollars, hands it over, still _musing_. 

"I don't have any quarters, I'm gonna have to give you nickels."

"So why would you lie about something like that?" 

His knuckles brush against her fingers, "Here's your change, come again soon."

He's about ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure she never used to jut her chin out like that when she knows she's won, hook, line, slinker. "You wanted to come over."

"I gotta get back to work."

She looks _delighted_. "You're squirming," A satisfied little grin on her face, "I've never seen you squirm, it's entertaining."

"Huh?" He braces himself against the counter, juts his chin right back at her.

"Yeah." She nods, staring right at him and he's a sucker for those eyes already. "So," She takes a sip of coffee, "What's with the whole crew of _If I Were a Carpenter_."

"A bit outdated if you ask me."

"Can't please them all. Would have said _The Fountainhead_ but I know it hurts your head."

"How very considerate." She grins at him again over the rim of her takeout cup. He picks up the ticket book again, starts flipping through it, "Extending the apartment upstairs. House hunt didn't go to Luke's plan. Decided to buy out the next building instead."

"What happened at the house hunt?"

"He didn't want to hold hands and skip."

She looks at him confused, but then Lorelai's rapping her knuckles against the window and pointing towards something outside. "I gotta go," She says, tucks a pair of gloves into her pocket and he doesn't blink as she reaches to squeeze his fingers in hers before heading out the door. It's a little pathetic, the way he never wants to wash that hand again, but then Kirk's complaining that there's peanut butter in his PB&J and then they _really do_ hit the waterline and it's all hands on deck to not flood out the diner.

* * *

Jess is smoking in the gazebo when she finds him next. He doesn't know what her Sunday plans have been, but from the way her hair's falling out of the messy bun she's put it up in, and the way she grunts when she sits beside him on the steps, he can only presume they were long ones. 

"Long day?" He asks, blowing the smoke away from her and flicking ash to the ground. Taylor had given him grief the first few times he smoked here late at night, but a well-placed finger over his shoulder towards his bedroom window (which he was _hanging out of_ at midnight to yell at him) shut him up. Jess refuses to believe he's the only one in Stars Hollow who smokes - who's smoked _here_. 

Rory yawns, which is answer enough but still answers anyway, "My grandpa's been visiting a fair bit since he retired. Normally I've had school or projects or something, so I got out of it but today was like going cold-turkey."

"Glad you made it out in one piece."

"I think I left some brain cells back at the third teapot store we visited." She nods with all seriousness when he turns to raise an eyebrow at her. He'd known about the ceramic unicorns, but who needs _three_ teapot stores? He's convinced there's more, in a place like Stars Hollow there has to be more, but he hates tea as it is and doesn't want to know just how many places are focused on the pot for it right now. 

"Want to take my math class for me tomorrow? I'm sure with all the slow-folks there you'll gain some back."

"Oh no," She scoffs, "I just got out of there, Chilton is just fine."

"Suit yourself. Pop-quiz."

That gets her attention, the _nerd_.

"Two of them actually," He carries on, taking a drag of his cigarette, "Back to back. History then math. Spanish teacher's been hinting at one for the past few days too. Might get lucky and have three."

She's practically vibrating in her spot.

"You wouldn't last a minute at Chilton." She counters.

He shrugs, "Please, I can keep up with you can't I?"

"You haven't met Paris. You'll have no hair in the hour."

"I have too!" He argues, "She busted Luke's prostitute ring in the apartment."

"Oh yes, that scandal. How could I forget."

"It was a shame. Some of those girls were fun."

"Dirty."

She turns red when he mock-gasps, turns to her, and grips his chest where his heart is, "Rory Gilmore, I'll have you know those girls were _killer_ at Scrabble. You get your pervy little head out of the gutter."

She turns redder, stutters and - _oh_. _Of course_.

"Dean?"

She shakes her head, focuses on a spot of dirt on his shoe. "No. I think he wanted to but- I..." She trails off, looks a little awkward under his gaze.

"You don't need to be embarrassed. If you're not ready you're not ready, no biggie." He shrugs, tries to look collected but when she looks at him all grateful he can't help but crack her a smile. He's stupidly pleased with this new intel, which is _stupid_. They've only hugged twice. There's no need to get all hot and bothered under the collar because her ex-boyfriend never saw her naked.

"What about you?" 

He sees her wince, chuckles a little to himself.

"I was fifteen. Can't remember it." When he meets her eyes, sees her eyebrows furrowed a little bit, he shrugs again, crushes his cigarette under his heel. He doesn't like smoking around Rory, he finds, doesn't want to taint her innocence (and _god_ is she innocent) with the smell that lingers for far too long. "Like I said, no biggie." She nods, looks back out at the twinkly lights on one of the bushes in front of them.

It's silent for a moment. Jess doesn't know if this should be awkward or not.

"I need to go back to New York soon," He finds himself blurting out for some reason unknown to him. Rory's shoulders tense at that and he curses at the realization that she's probably remembering that conversation they had not one week ago - _"I tend to run... I make a habit of it... When it gets too real"_ \- and he finds himself stumbling to clarify, "Liz is going through one of her clearing phases," He's trying to make it sound casual. Rory's not been touched by the gritty part of the world yet and he doesn't want her to ever be, especially doesn't want that introduction to come in the form of Liz and her drugs and her alcohol, and her tendency to just _be_ without _being_. "She sent over some of my stuff but there are things I don't want her touching up there."

It seems to relax Rory a bit, but she asks anyway, a little tentatively, "How long are you going to be gone for?"

He knocks their shoulders together, "A weekend maybe. I don't want to spend a lot of time hiding from Liz. Plus, the diner's pay isn't too shabby but it won't keep me in New York for an extended time."

She nods and yet still doesn't look satisfied. She's chewing on her lip and Jess is just hoping she won't ask more questions. He wants to tell Rory everything, grab her hand, spill it all, and ask her not to leave after hearing it all. He knows he probably would spill it all, she just needs to turn those eyes on him and he's a goner, but he knows he won't find the words anyway. He hasn't found the right words to use in the entire eighteen years he's been alive, even to himself, resorts to placing blame anywhere and everywhere, and Rory's so _pure_ he doesn't want to hate himself for telling her the dirty secrets of his home, of Liz and her long list of boyfriends and failed marriages and failed everything.

And, to prove just how _pure_ she really is, she turns to him with a breathtaking smile and asks questions about _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas;_ lays her head on his shoulder when he starts flicking through the book to discuss notes with her. When they've discussed them all it's barely hit eleven, he starts to walk her home, but they take a detour and end up on the bridge. 

She sits with the toes of her ankle boots skimming the water, resting on one elbow behind her, the other softly carding through his hair where his head rests on her lap. The constant moving is making the hair gel from this morning lose all of its hold, he can feel the curls tangle across her fingers but she softly untangles them and carries on as he reads aloud to her.

It's so _pure_ , so _innocent_ that Jess feels the need to ruin it. He doesn't do pure or innocent. Has never been allowed it. The last innocent thing he remembers actively participating in was sitting on Liz's knee when he was four, crying into her jacket because he didn't want her to leave him at kindergarten, wanted to stay at home with her. The teachers had cooed at him, kept him busy all day with books and paper airplanes, then gave him looks of pity and snuck him a chocolate bar when Liz showed up two hours late to pick him up, eyes red and dazed. They tried keeping him behind, asked if there was anyone else to pick him up, didn't trust someone clearly intoxicated with a child, but Jess had struggled out of their hold, grabbed her hand and led the way home himself. He had cleaned the vomit from her face and shirt that night, helped her brush her teeth, and warmed up some beans on the stove to soften the toast he ended up feeding her. The next day, Liz had forgotten he even had to go to kindergarten, and Jess learned to keep to himself.

(On his first day of first grade, the neighbor dropped him off on the way to work. The teachers thought she was his mother, and Jess let them think that until the end of the year when Liz stumbled her way into parents evening with the smell of tequila on her breath and her shoe half off. He used to keep the memory of Liz comforting him that first day of kindergarten, would play it back in his head anytime the kiddy emotions would catch up to him and he'd want to cry. After that evening, when he answered the door to CPS at quarter to midnight with Liz passed out on the bathroom floor, he did everything in his power to forget about it.)

Rory's fingers are close to lulling him to sleep. At some point, she takes over reading and her voice drops a few volume levels as she reads. He thinks he falls asleep then, with the way he can feel her stomach rumble with the words against his ear. When he blinks his eyes open again, tunes back into her reading, the hand in her hair has moved to his chest, pointer finger rubbing figure of eights into the fabric of his shirt, the other fingers curled around his own.

"We should get you back," He whispers, swallowing around the roughness of his voice. She carries on reading out loud as they walk, his arm around her shoulders, one of hers around his waist. He tries not to shiver as her arm slips under his jacket and settles against the thin material of his tee-shirt, but then his thumb starts rubbing circles and it's a little difficult to concentrate. He has to count his steps in his head, then switches to some _really_ distressing images of Taylor to stop his body reacting the way it wants to when Rory touches him.

He only barely keeps it together when they make it back to hers and she pulls him in for a hug before they even stop walking. He walks backward blindly for a few steps, likes the way she giggles into his neck and clutches his shoulder as he steadies them, wraps her up tightly in his arms, actually _does_ shiver when she slides the book into his back pocket for him.

"When are you going?"

It breaks the silence and reminds Jess that this calmness is only when Rory's around. Liz is just an hour and a half away, has been for the two weeks he's been here and that she's only called _once_ and barely even spoke. Reminds him that this weekend he'll be back in New York, keeping to himself in his room, music blaring and probably (after feeling Rory slip a hand _under his shirt to scrap her fingernails against his skin_ ) counting down the minutes until he comes back to Stars Hollow. 

"Saturday morning. I'll be back before Monday."

"It's my birthday on Thursday."

"The big eighteen."

She hums into the skin of his collar, he swallows a hum of his own and tucks her hair under his hand to rest his chin against her temple.

"I'll be here for it." He says, likes the way her nails scratch at the dip in his back. The pad of her thumb has found the crevice of a scar by his spine, sits nicely there as her nails work. He knows she wants to ask, but she doesn't. He decides he'll tell her, at some point, preferably when he gets to see if she has any under her own shirt (she's _pure,_ he doubts the world has so much as given her a bruise). 

"Luke's asked me to tutor you."

"I've heard. Tomorrow, right?"

She nods, "Diner. After closing."

"Cat ate my books."

"You don't have a cat."

"Never said it was mine."

She snorts and tilts her head back. He sees the light of her living room flick-on from the corner of his eye, chooses to ignore it because Rory doesn't pay much mind to it, "Goodnight, Jess."

"Goodnight, Rory."

She smiles at him, scratches his back one last time and he likes the way that when he smiles at her, _actually smiles, teeth and all_ , she hesitates a little in his arms, holds him a little tighter in the shock of it. He leans forward, doesn't feel bad about pressing a kiss to her temple, hand on her cheek because she leans into it and then -

 _Oh,_ okay, that's her lips pressing one into his _neck_.

She steps back without a word, cheeks a little red, and looks back at him when she's at her door to wave. She watches him as he walks away, he hears her door close in the dead quiet of Stars Hollow once he's turned the corner. 

Yeah, they ran across that line Jess was trying so desperately not to even _see_ and he doesn't care one little bit. Liz can throw whatever she wants at him this weekend, he's coming back.

After all, there's only one Rory Gilmore and you can't find her in New York.

* * *

Rory's shivering under her sweatshirt and jacket when she meets Jess outside Gypsy's the next night. He'd phoned before, told her Luke kicked him out an hour ago to pick something up for the truck and he has no intention of going back until Taylor is chucked out at closing, so he'd meet her here and walk them both back. Gypsy's fond of Jess, always found his pranks funny (mainly because he never tried to mess with her) and appreciated that he would stop by after school on occasion and mess around with the scraps in her back yard. She bragged about it to Luke, lugged a car engine onto the counter, and told Luke that three days ago the thing was on the market for scraps, and now it's working as good as new. Jess never took money from Gypsy when she offered, if she tipped him extra at the diner the whole amount would find itself in her top desk drawer the next morning.

He's leaning against the gas pump closest to Luke's. Everything's closed for the night, only the light in Gypsy's office still bright, but his position at the pump hides him from view as he twirls a cigarette around two fingers.

"You going to smoke that?" 

She hates the smell of it, hates the way that he makes it look cool.

"Depends on what happens."

Personal space seems to be something they're only capable of achieving with the diner counter in between them, and even then they're squeezing each other's fingers or knocking their hands away from book pages. Now, with nothing between them but space, Rory finds herself stepping towards him until the tips of their trainers nudge each other. She remembers being nervous around Dean for the first two weeks or so, remembers actually running onto a bus to avoid embarrassing herself, but Jess's fingers are brushing against the backs of hers a moment later and she's not nervous. She wants to be closer to him. She never wants to take a step away from him.

"When?"

She's got her backpack on, the yellow clashing horribly with the dark brown of her jacket, but Jess's hands have traveled up her arms to slip his fingers under the straps on her shoulders, uses them to tug her a little closer as he straightens up. 

"Now."

There's a moment where neither of them moves, and then they both do. Rory's a little more eager to catch his lips first, but Jess is the one to tilt her head just right and set the pace as he fumbles to shove the cigarette in his pocket and wrap his arms around her. There's a brief flash of 'this is _so much better than Dean_ ' and then all thoughts of Dean completely disappear when Jess gives off a little whimper and steps closer, pulls their chests flush together, angles his jaw a little and curves his thumb around a lock of her hair.

When they pull apart, his cheeks are a pale red and his lips are swollen a little bit. She imagines she looks the same, feels the gigantic grin spread across her face before she can calm it down, but he smiles right back at her (she'll never get enough of that smile) and leaning back to kiss her again. 

"We still have to study."

"Cat ate my books, told you this already Gilmore."

She huffs against his mouth and he chuckles, forces his mouth off of her to trial them down her jaw and neck, finds the hard structure of her collarbone and sets to work. 

"The quicker we finish studying, the quicker we can get back to this."

"This then study."

"No way."

"This _and_ study."

"Study _then_ this." She's proud of herself as she pushes him back a little, feels conflicted when her hands grip his elbows, and tug him back when he goes too far away. Her breath leaves her for a second; he looks so unguarded, eyes bright, and yet only half-open. He looks younger, his shoulders less tense, jaw not tightened like it is normally. She _really_ likes him like this, so calm and unburdened, and she just wants to lock them in this memory forever. 

He'd looked so calm last night, fell asleep on her for a solid half-hour at the bridge, and she'd wanted nothing more but to wipe the crease of his forehead away as he whimpered against the nightmare. She knows there's so much he's not willing to talk about, that he may not ever want to talk about, but she wants to know everything and more. Wants to grab his hand, listen to it all, promise she's never leaving no matter how bad it could possibly be. The scar on his back is causing havoc in her mind (where did he get it? When? Did it hurt? Does the memory still hurt?) and she finds it now over his jacket, tries to ground herself back to reality knowing that she'll never be one to put one on him. 

She's so completely oblivious of the world outside the bubble Stars Hollow has given her. Her most horrific memory was falling off her bike outside Miss Patty's for the second time, the kids called her Scab Nose for a while before some other kid fell off the swing set and they were known as Flying Squirrel. Her dad decided he wasn't ready to be a dad, but he was gone before she came into the world, has sucked up enough courage to see her at least once a year and doesn't cringe when she calls him dad and so she can't really be upset by that - after all, she has her Mom, Luke, books, Stars Hollow. Anyone would look at her and just know that this girl doesn't know the first thing about a tough life (late paid bills and the first few years of her life - and even then those struggles were on Lorelai - be damned).

Jess, though, has been knocked down and beaten and dragged right back up again. She refuses to believe that this was his choice, being so guarded and tired all the time, knows that something caused him to be this way and she already hates it even if she doesn't know what it is. She sees the way he lingers a little when Luke claps him on the shoulder, the way when a customer gets angry his eyes flicker to Luke's between the yelling, the way that he holds her tightly every time, lets out a breath that sounds like he's been holding it in for years when she touches him. If he notices it, he doesn't mention it, but Rory's cataloged it all away, never wants to forget that she's seventeen and Jess is amazing in every way that counts and more. 

He leads them back to the diner, locks up when they're in, and pours her a coffee while she shrugs off that hideous jacket and starts laying out textbooks. She knows she promised to help Jess, but he's smart enough and she reckons she can get a few chapters in of her own study material before she heads home again. 

Except, Jess has everything on his mind except studying. He pouts when she throws his cards to the chair, grins when she guesses the song lyrics right, plays footsie with her under the table and presses his fingers to the curve of her knee when he drags his chair closer. She's learned not to argue with him when he gets in a playful mood, doesn't really want to because he never normally is and even if he is trying to distract her, she likes the way he's not holding himself back. He's teasing her and laughing at her stupid jokes, gets her pie when she offhandedly mentions she could eat, steals her fork when she writes something down to take a bit himself. 

And (call her a little self-indulgent but she doesn't care) he barely takes a hand off of her the entire time he's within touching distance. Sure; it made studying Shakespeare a little difficult when his fingers were rubbing circles onto her scalp, and when they dropped to her back and thigh she didn't want to do anything but kiss him until it got difficult to breathe and then soldier on through all of that to get to keep kissing him; but this side of Jess is exciting and new, like a new toy straight out of its packaging on Christmas morning and dammit will she enjoy it. 

"Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

"What?"

"I'm sick of studying," He's stood up already, headed towards the coat rack by the door. She misses his hand on her and turns to face him, still gripping a pencil in one hand and his notebook in the other.

"How can you be sick of studying? You haven't done any studying!" Why is she arguing with him? "You've done card tricks, you've made coffee, you've tried to explain to me how on earth Coldplay could be considered an alternative band, but as of yet, no studying."

He's moved the blinds to look outside, his shoulders raise in excitement when he seems to remember something and then he's back into his seat right next to her, arm resting against the back of her chair as he leans closer. 

"Hi," He says _so gently_ and she practically melts when he finds her mouth a second later - actually does melt when he nips at her bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth before letting go. "That your car outside?"

She'd driven it over, didn't want to freeze on the walk, walked to meet Jess. Dean had been with her when she found it, beaten to hell, and insisted he could fix it up. He had started, but then her grandpa had seen it parked under the tree one day and the next morning it was in the shop, all fixed up, as good as new. Dean had been mad; Rory ditched movie night with her mother to walk around town with him until he cooled down. She felt a little weird the first few times she drove it after the breakup; this had been Dean's little project for a while and it felt wrong keeping it around, but her grandfather had spent good money fixing it up and she has every right to keep using it.

"Yeah."

"Okay, tell you what," He's whispering like they're figuring out how to rob Doose's, the absurdity of it makes Rory want to laugh but he's still so close and he smells too good so she doesn't ever want to lean away, "Let's go get some ice cream, and then, when we get back, I'll study."

"This is a diner, there's ice cream here." Again, why is she arguing with him? Ice cream sounds great, a drive with Jess sounds even better.

All seriousness; "Yes, but we don't have any cones."

"Cones."

"I need cones." He nods, knows he has her wrapped around his little finger right now. 

"So, if we go to get ice cream-"

"In _cones_."

"-you'll be a perfect student for the rest of the night."

He nods, presses a hand to his heart in a mock scouts-honor. "That's right."

He drives; she spends a whole six minutes and eighteen seconds reading Othello out loud until even she gets bored and turns on the radio. They sing off-key to whatever crappy pop songs come up, and Jess reaches over for her hand a few moments later, leads her into a high-pitched chorus neither of them knows the actual words to. They find an ice cream parlor thirty minutes out of town and it feels even colder when Jess opens the door. Rory refuses to leave the car, yells her order out to him as he mockingly rolls his eyes and heads inside. When he returns, a few moments later, and hands her a double-scoop on a cone, she doesn't think before leaning over and kissing him. 

She wants to laugh when he slams the door shut and nearly drops his ice cream, but then he's steadying her jaw in his free hand and pulling her closer. They only part because the heat from the car is making their ice cream melt far quicker than necessary and it's making a mess of their hands. He drives with one hand, laughs at her yelp of indignation when he lets go of the wheel to stop ice cream from falling into his lap. He tells her that it's Stars Hollow at half eleven at night, the roads are empty and they won't crash even with her leaning over his lap to steady the wheel. She feels dizzy when he pecks her lips quickly before taking back the wheel.

He becomes guarded again when Rory questions the attitude he takes on about school work, tells him he could be grades above those other kids without even having to try and she hates herself for letting him put those barriers up but she knows how important school can be, wants him to do just as well as she knows he can. He changes the conversation, they talk about what she wants to do, joke about shitty journalists and writers, and then they're at the intersection. 

"I guess we should be getting back," She nods at his words, "I did promise to study if you came on this ice cream run with me."

She's glad he brought it up, she doesn't have the self-restraint to do it herself. It's obvious she wants to stay in this car with him, driving aimlessly, all night. "Yes, you did."

"Okay, so just go straight and we'll be back at Luke's."

"Good sense of direction."

There's a gleam to his eyes, "Of course, I could turn right, and then we'll just be driving around in circles for a while." The look on his face when he turns his eyes to her tells her he wants to drive around but will park in front of Luke's and study if she really wants him to. 

The sensible part of her brain is telling her to go back. He has a test next Monday and even though he could pass it easily (he's read Othello like five times, can quote it by memory should he want to), he needs to study the material the school wants him to. Except, the sensible part of her brain knows what it's like to be kissed by Jess, just choices to put it further down her priority list. The other part of her brain, a much smaller but still loud bit of her, tells her to make him turn right.

She normally listens to the sensible part of her brain; "Turn right." Not tonight.

"As you wish."

* * *

She's never seen her mom like this, snapping at the doctors to run some more tests and huffing out her sentences. Rory wants to tell her she's acting like an unhinged Emily but knows it won't soften any of what's already happened today. She won't listen to what actually happened, as far as Lorelai is concerned Jess was driving, he crashed and Rory's the one in the hospital and not him.

Rory wasn't looking at the road when it happened. She and Jess were laughing at some stupid joke she can't even remember and she had turned to rest against the door so she could face him. Her seatbelt was still in place when he swore and jerked the wheel to the side. Her hand slammed to the console in a moment of panic and they both heard the crunch it emitted. 

Jess had looked panicked, was fretting over her when she blinked the dazedness from her eyes. He had her belt unbuckled and had run over to her side, pulled the door open, supported her wrist as he helped her out, cradled her head in his hands as he checked her over for any other injuries. She tried to talk, tried to hold him with her good hand, and give him a once over, but he was moving a mile a minute and then the ambulance was there and he was helping her into the back of it. His eyes were dark, guarded against everything, against _her_ , again and Rory hated it. When he settled her in the ambulance she couldn't care any less that the paramedic was watching, she balled the front of his jacket in her fist and pulled him in. Tried to tell him in the kiss that _I'm_ _okay, it wasn't your fault, if you don't come with me please be there when I get back_.

He had stayed behind with the police to give a statement, sort out the cost of getting the car towed to Gypsy's. His jacket around her shoulders was a comforting weight and she buried her chin and mouth into the fabric whilst her mother made phone calls and practically ordered for another x-ray.

She hated the way he had kissed her; like it was a goodbye.

* * *

He feels Luke stand behind him on the bridge, knows he's worried when he doesn't so much as huff at the cigarette in Jess's fingers.

" _I made sure she was okay..._ " He sounds broken even to his own ears and he hates it.

Hates it, even more, when Luke whispers, "I know you did."

An hour later Luke offers the truck, but when Jess declines insists on driving him to the bus station himself. "Want me to tell her anything?"

Jess pauses with one fist curling around the straps of his bag, the other against the door handle. Some crappy band is playing faintly on the radio, Jess's heart is thumping too loudly for him to hear it. He's staring stead-fast at the bag at his feet. Yesterday, there was no plan on bringing it at all. He has bags in New York to chuck the rest of his stuff in, now, there's clothes in the one at his feet and all the cash he'd saved up from before Stars Hollow and during.

 _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas_ is stuffed in the bottom.

It's her birthday in three days. He said he'd be there - he said he would drive safely too if she told him to turn right; she said 'turn right', so sure and eyes twinkling under streetlights.

He shakes his head. 

He crossed the line he knew he shouldn't of. He dragged Rory across that line. Hurt her in the process, cradled her limp wrist in his own hands until the ambulance arrived. All because of that stupid line.

Can't bring himself to say goodbye to Luke as he gets out.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! 
> 
> (before the sequel)
> 
> i also have a prequel in the works that is gonna be based during Jess's time in New York before he moves to Stars Hollow so I can explore a bit more of his character. There isn't much Rory in there but she floats about if y'all are interested. They'll all be apart of the same collection series.

He's gone.

* * *

Rory took a walk around the town the morning after she was discharged; running on next to no sleep and fighting against the boulder that was her cast weighing down her left side. Her painkillers were just wearing off and her spontaneous walk was her trying to distract herself from how claustrophobic her room felt; the walls seemed to close in on her, the ceiling looked like it was caving in the longer she looked at it and, for the first time, she wanted to take each and every single book she owned and through them all down the garbage disposal. Even the ones he hadn't touched. The ones he had, the ones with his notes, with the extra cracks in the spine that wasn't there before, a little roll to each of them from where he shoved them in his pocket, seemed to glare at her from their respective places around her room. He'd only been in her room once. That was seemingly all it took to ruin it completely now he'd skipped town.

Everyone in town had heard about it. Babette met them on the porch when they got back from the hospital, told Rory Jess was never any good anyway and she's better off without him if he's going to go around crashing other people's cars. Miss Patty gave roughly the same lecture. Everyone she passed, even those she didn't know the names of, stopped her to tell her how sorry they were to hear about the accident, give their hopes that she'll recover quickly. She can't bring herself to go into Luke's. She loves Luke, but that's where it all started and that was just the beginning of the end. She knows Luke is feeling pretty guilty about it but also knows that he had fought with her mom over it too and she wants space from her Mom right now. Wants space from it all.

When she turns back into her street, Dean's there. He's stood right on the sidewalk, and even if she is facing his back she can tell from the hard set of his shoulders that he's pissed. She can practically see the way his jaw is working tensely, grinding his teeth together. The towing company had left the car next to their house. Gypsy said she'll organize for someone to come get it when the car she's working on gets picked up. She thinks it'll be another day or so. Rory hates looking at the car; kind of wants to scrap it but she'd feel bad about the money her grandfather spent, and she wants to remember that, even if he did leave, this was the last place she saw Jess smile.

She clears her throat, watches Dean flinch at the sudden noise as he turns to face her. The last time she saw him she had immediately wanted to cry. This was her first boyfriend and she thinks she may have loved him, or parts of him (or could have if they had more time), and knowing it was all over felt like the end of the world. Except now she knows that the end of the world feels a lot like Jess walking away.

"How's the arm?"

"It's still there."

He seems uncomfortable. _Good_ , she thinks, _I'm not a child. You know I'm not. The cast changes nothing, I don't want you to look at me. I don't want you here. Please, just go._ He doesn't. He takes a step closer to her, tries to reach for her but she walks away towards her front door, stops just before when she hears his boots on the porch steps. She doesn't want him in her house. She doesn't even want to go in, but her arm's in agony now and she wants to take her painkillers, hopefully, fall asleep for a little while. 

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Dean says. It's gentle enough but it makes her stomach twist and she wants to vomit. 

"I'm fine."

"I'm sorry he left." He carries on anyway, can't see her close her eyes and let a tear slip out. Lorelai had told her before she left that he had gone, but it hadn't mattered. Rory knew as soon as Jess had pulled away from that kiss, after he only lingered for a few seconds, didn't try to touch her or say anything, that he was leaving. _"_ _I usually run... I make a break for it, usually... running away just feels easier_." That's what he said. She'd felt every organ in her body run cold when he did because she barely knew him back then but didn't want him to run.

This town was her safe haven, she so desperately wanted him to find his here.

She turns to face Dean. Immediately, she hates the look on his face. It's pity and it's smug because he may have driven off and left her alone but she didn't end up in a cast from that. He drove in a car without her, Jess drove in one with her and she's the one hurt. Both of these boys may have hurt her, but Jess hurt her physically, despite there being no intention to do so and no blame, on her behalf, to place on him. Dean may have left and it may have hurt but she got over it. Jess has left and it's _killing_ her.

"I don't want your pity, Dean." It's harsh and she doesn't care that he looks like she's just slapped him. She hears her mother inside, trying to get her coffee machine working (with Luke and Jess supplying their coffee addiction, their machine's been sat idle in their kitchen for weeks. With Jess gone and Luke and her mom in a fight, it's getting its first taste of coffee again). She hears Babette stop watering those plants on her own porch. She didn't know Babette was there, really doesn't care anymore. 

"Rory, I just-"

" _No_!" It's loud and even harsher. The noise from inside stops, Babette jumps a little. "I don't want pity. Yours or anyones. None of you were _there._ None of you _know,_ you just think you do and I need everyone to just _stop_." She feels like she can't stress it enough. "Just... _stop_."

"Rory, he crashed a _car-_ "

"It was an _accident_." The door behind her opens, Lorelai says her name gently but she wrenches her arm out of her grip the second her fingers graze her. She takes a step away from all of them. "There was something in the road. He swerved out the way, the roads were slippery and we skidded and I put my hand out to steady myself. I wasn't sat right, I was looking at him and _I_ was talking and distracting _him_. All of you are focusing on the accident and not what actually happened," She's crying. She hates that she's crying because they're all looking at her like she's breaking - even Babette's gnomes look like they're taking pity on her. "None of you _know_. Did anyone ask Luke how Jess was? If _he_ was hurt? Did anyone ask Luke how _Luke_ is?"

"Rory, honey, if it was an accident why did he just leave?" It's her mom. It's her mom who's asked that question a dozen times since they got back to Stars Hollow and they could tell he left just from the way Luke was standing at the counter when they walked past. He had his head in his hands and his shoulders were shaking like he was crying. Rory knows he tried hard with Jess, her heart had started hurting because she's not sure if Luke knows Jess appreciated it, that Jess trusted him. 

Rory still doesn't have an answer. Wants to scream that this town has never been welcoming of Jess, to begin with. Knows that'll just leave room to argue he wasn't welcoming of the town itself. She knows he's had a crappy time before Stars Hollow, knows that this town is so out of depth and not somewhere he wanted to live to begin with, but she also knows that she doesn't _really know_. He doesn't open up and when he does it's in minute amounts that only raise more questions. Rory was patient. It wasn't her story to know, it wasn't her place to demand answers. She wanted Jess to feel like he could tell her when he was ready. She wants to think he was close. He'd been telling her more, letting his guard down more around her. She wants to think she did a good job by him.

He told her he didn't want to let anyone down. She told him you can't let your friends down.

Rory bursts into tears - right on the porch, ignores Babette and Dean and the gnomes, lets her mother wrap her arms around her, and rock her - because _she_ was Jess's friend and she feels like _she_ let him down. 

_Because seriously, why did he leave?_

* * *

He hates Liz. Luke must have called ahead and given a warning because when he walks into the apartment, it's too bright for 2 AM and there's Liz, rushing towards him and hugging him tightly. She's wearing perfume and clothes that have obviously been washed but need an iron. She's wearing _jewelry_ and Jess has to run to the bathroom to vomit. This is clean Liz. This is Liz a few days (hours? who even knows) off alcohol and whatever drugs she can find. It'll last a few hours (days? who even knows) before she's back in whatever dingy room she buys them out of. The apartment smells like an antiseptic. He vomits again; it's the same stuff Luke uses. He doesn't think Liz knows that, doesn't think Liz knows what she actually used, just picked up the first thing she could find. Liz rubs his back through it all, talks him through it with promises of a cooked breakfast and a day together, promises that _it's over,_ this time, _I mean it, Jessie, I'm done_.

He hates Liz. She doesn't mention the time he tried to phone. She doesn't mention the time she phoned him, doped up off her mind, yelling about some stain on the carpet he knows she put there the night he left. She goes to move his bag to his room but he snatches it off the floor before she can, slams his door closed before she can follow him. Everything's the same as he left it. It smells a little musty. She never once opened the door since he left. This is neutral ground. Rory's never been here, never touched anything in this room, and yet he hates it primarily for that when he collapses into bed. He knows she probably hates him now, there's no way she _can't_. 

He hates New York. He hates that the streets seven stories below wakes him up a few hours later. Hates that it's loud. He'd hated how quiet Stars Hollow, ached for the business of New York. He would laugh at how ironic it was if it didn't kill him how he knew that he'd never fit into Stars Hollow, even if he wanted to. When he leaves without saying a word to Liz, he navigates around the streets without even having to look up. By the time he gets to Washington Square Park, he remembers he forgot to even grab a book. He'd told Rory, once, that Washington Square Park was the best park in New York, way cooler than Central Park, and on any day you could find him here reading. Today, he's sitting there in the grass, head between his knees and he's letting tears soak his cheeks. 

He told her he didn't want to let anyone down. She told him you can't let your friends down.

 _He_ was Rory's friend and he knows _he_ let her down.

* * *

_P_ _aris_ had heard about it. She'd dragged Lane with her to Rory's bedroom, piled junk food and blankets and pillows around the room while Lane comforted her. Hid all the books she had heard Rory tell her about reading with Jess, sat facing the others so Rory wouldn't have to look at them. 

"You want to know how much I liked him?"

"Mhm?"

"He was here for barely a month, and I loved it before he was here and now I hate it. I hate it. Not because everyone knows all my business or because they pity me and treat me like a _child_. But because everywhere I look I see Jess and it's so _stupid_ because I've lived here for years and three and a half weeks with a stupid boy shouldn't change that for me. I can't look at any of my books without thinking of him and I can't think about any of my books without thinking of him and I can't do _anything without thinking of him_. I thought Dean broke my heart but he didn't. Jess did."

There's silence. Paris and Lane seem to be battling themselves on what to say. Rory's openly crying now. She wants them to leave, wants to wallow in her own self-pity but also wants them to stay and tell them Jess was an asshole so she can defend him, wants them to say he's a good guy and that's why it hurts so much so she can agree with them. 

"Want to know the worst part?"

"You'd let him do it all over again," Paris says. Rory's never heard Paris state a fact so gently before. She says it like she normally does; like the knowledge can break whoever hears it, but this time she seems to care about that, seems to want to avoid it. Rory nods, cries as her two friends wrap their arms around her and themselves into a group hug.

She hears her mom's footsteps lightly trial away from her closed bedroom door. That'll be a conversation, a _long_ one, and she doesn't think she'll ever be ready for it.

* * *

He gets his old job back mainly for the money, but also because he needs to get out of the house.

Liz seems deadset on this 'cleanse' she's going through but he sees the way she scratches her arm, hears her move around at night when she can't sleep, sees the sweat break out on her forehead, and the way she seems to be eying the phone. He knows he should stay in the apartment, disconnect the phones, make sure she doesn't go back to whichever drug dealer is still supplying her. Except, Liz is thirty-four now. It's not her eighteen-year-old son's job to make sure she stays clean. 

He wasn't enough of a reason to stay off drugs when he was born. That's reason enough for him to leave. He should have been enough.

His old manager, Hatti, knew better than to ask questions before he left, and didn't even want to reinterview him now that he's back. He went straight from Washington Square Park to the bookstore, she took one look at him and jerked her head to tell him to man the counter. It's a small store, not very busy with actual in-person customers but people phone in a lot and ask for deliveries and so more often than not Jess is piling books into boxes and lugging them to the post office two blocks over. He can read when he's on shift, Hatti doesn't care. 

He finds his old stack of books still under the counter, figures Hatti never bothered to rehire after he left. It can run on one person, he was hired because he didn't want to go to school and Hatti used to live opposite them, knew Liz, and the reasons why he wanted an out. 

There's a lot of Hemingway in that pile. Right at the bottom, _The Fountainhead_. He had tried rereading it a few months before he left and, true to his word, couldn't finish even a quarter of it before putting it back down. He thinks of Rory, of him agreeing to reread it in the first fifteen minutes of meeting her, of how he actually read it, cover to cover and made notes for her, and discussed them willingly afterward.

When he picks it up, there's still a pen on the last page he was on. The book falls open naturally to it, an unwitting bookmark, but he starts at the beginning again. He underlines _"I should have left long ago",_ writes _"she wouldn't have gotten hurt"_ right next to it. He does this again and again and again.

* * *

She doesn't want to celebrate her birthday but she knows that her mom's worrying she's rotting away in her bed. Her grandparents had never liked the idea of Jess anyway; made an assumption on the fact that he's Luke's nephew, was sent from New York, and then when Lorelai told them about the accident it just secured those assumptions into place. They made a fuss about her cast and the accident, told her she's better off without 'that degenerate', and led her into the party. She didn't want to see anyone from school and make small talk neither of them cared about. She stuck by Paris because Paris was treating her like nothing ever happened. They talked about books, about the latest Madeline and Louise drama currently happening, they snuck out the party to sit in the kitchen with the maid fixing them hot cocoa and when Rory let a small tear slip, Paris gave her a tissue and carried on talking about Louise's new boyfriend calling Louise Madeline midway through sex. 

An hour into the party, Paris leaves. Rory waits ten minutes and then leaves too. She manages to get a bus back to Stars Hollow and finds herself standing in front of Luke's without anyone catching her. The lights are out and the sign has been flipped to 'close', even if it isn't supposed to be shut for another hour or so on a Friday night, but the door is unlocked when she twists the handle. She locks it from the inside in case anyone saw her come in, shuts the blinds, and takes a moment to look at the empty diner. The last time she was here, five days ago, Jess was kissing her, coercing her into an ice cream run, trying to show her a card trick that she interrupted him halfway through with the intention of Shakespeare. 

She'd never seen what the apartment ended up like after the construction crew finished up and left. When Luke opens the door to her, a little startled and apprehensive but stepping aside for her anyway, it's a shock to see it so big. Where the new bed - _Jess's_ bed - had been pushed against the foot of Luke's, it's now on the other side of the room, right past where the wall had been. It's more open, two bathrooms now on either side of the room, two closets too. One side for Jess and a side for Luke on either side of the kitchen area in the middle. 

"He left some stuff" She hopes she doesn't sound as hopeful as she feels. It's a good sign, right? He told her he needed to go pick up some stuff from New York. Maybe he just went early. She could forgive him for that.

She'd forgive him anyway. It scares how she knows that.

Luke merely nods, doesn't seem to want to think about what it means. "Are you okay, Rory?" She could see him flickering his gaze to her cast every few seconds. They haven't spoken since he and her mom fell out, since before the accident. She doesn't blame him. She'd been avoiding the diner because of Jess and there's no need for Luke to stop by theirs if he and Lorelai aren't on speaking terms. 

It's the first time she's been asked that question and it isn't filled with sorrow. Filled with intentions of throwing blame on Jess because he was driving.

"It kind of aches but nothing a few Asprin won't fix."

"I'd avoid pencils. I broke my arm when I was a kid, tried to use a pencil when the itching got bad but it didn't end well."

"Noted."

Luke's always been a little awkward around Rory once she turned thirteen. He never really knew what to say before, but she was chattier then and still liked roughly the same things she did when she was a kid. Luke grabbled for any conversation starters he could after she became a teenager though, and for a while, it was just her blabbering about school and him asking about Harvard. They fought their way out of the awkward phase, especially when she started drinking coffee herself and came in without Lorelai after school. It feels like they're back to when she's thirteen. 

"How are you, Luke?" She's been so rude to everyone in town recently, doesn't want to be rude to Luke. Luke's the only other person who knows what this pain feels like.

"I miss him." He sighs, sits at the table, and plays with a placemat. The naked truth kind of kicks her in the face. She never met Luke's father but was told he wasn't one for talking about feelings and emotions, and that trait passed to Luke (and, as it seems, Jess - she knows if she connects the dots, Liz probably isn't too fond of talking about the stuff that counts either). 

"I miss him, too." She says. It seems they're all for honesty tonight. "He didn't mean to. It was an accident."

Luke nods, reaches across the table to squeeze her good hand, "I know. He seemed real broken up about it."

That hurts. She can't remember if she actually said anything to him after the crash, was trying hard to make her head stop spinning as he fretted over her, the phone to call the police, him pressing a kiss to her temple as he told her the ambulance was coming and he'd phone Luke as soon as they get here, Luke will tell Lorelai, _you'll be okay_. 

"No one else seems to want to listen."

Luke looks just as broken as Rory feels, she's pretty sure they're wearing mirroring expressions, "He never made it easy for them to trust him, but they never gave him a proper chance either." He stops, sucks in a deep breath, "Does Lorelai know you're here?"

"Not sure," She shrugs, "I ditched out on the party. Everyone keeps looking at me like I'm going to break and I... Luke, I don't want Jess to feel alone wherever he is."

"He won't be."

"How do you know?"

He pauses then says, "He's never been good at letting people in but he's good at finding cover for himself. Liz is trying to stay clean so he has a roof over his head for right now. I'm sure he's finding a job to stay away from here. I told him I won't touch his stuff, he knows he can come back." He looks down then and it's Rory's turn to squeeze his hand, "I just don't think he'll choose to come back by himself. Not after..." He doesn't finish what he wants to say out loud. Her wrist throbs.

He lets her stay in Jess's bed that night. Leaves a message on Lorelai's machine that she's here and safe, he'll feed her in the morning and if Lorelai wants to come up to the apartment to talk to her then she's more than welcome to once the diner is open. Rory changes into a pair of Jess's sweatpants and his Metallica shirt in the bathroom. The smell of him is so overwhelming for a moment that she sits on the edge of the tub and just breathes him in. Luke's made her some toast and hot cocoa, which they eat and drink in silence.

"What's his address?" She doesn't know why she asks. When he rattles it off with a look of warning, she figures it out. 

Luke falls asleep an hour later. Rory lets herself curl into Jess's sheets for an hour after that, then gets up and quietly slips out the apartment. She leaves a note for her mom on the stairs, she won't miss it when she wakes up. She packs a weekend's worth of clothes and before she really knows what she's doing she's halfway to New York; the only bus available at this time has a change in New Haven which lasts for a few hours. She reads, finds herself making notes in the book as Jess does. When she steps off the bus again at Port Authority, it's nearing eight in the morning. 

* * *

Liz is hungover, which means it's only a matter of minutes now until she's reaching for alcohol or for money or both. Jess grabs a book, leaves through the fire escape at his bedroom window. He's not working today but could probably snag a shift if Hatti's desperate for a rest. Even if she's not, she set up a small coffee shop in the backroom to attract more customers a year ago; he could offer to man that counter, or sit on one of the couches and just rest without the sound of Liz through the walls. 

It's close to eight when his feet hit the floor and he starts walking. Most days he'd hop the gates at the subway, other days he'd walk to the park. When he does walk, he likes taking the longer routes so he can pass the bus stations and read the schedules. He started this when he was fourteen, a sense of security that he could step onto one and it'd take him as far as he wanted - it's a habit he has yet to grow out of. 

His eyes automatically find the Hartford board at Georgia Ports and again at Port Authority. Authority has more, with an express option every two hours or so. He thinks that with the twelve bucks in his pocket he could hop on one right now. He lets the thought linger for a moment and then he pushed it back.

If Rory isn't mad about the accident - and the way she kissed him makes him believe she isn't - she's probably mad that he just left. She'd been nothing but understanding of him, pushing him only about school and studying, but never about opening up when he didn't want to, and he crashed her car and left before he could even find out if her wrist ended up broken. Then there's Luke. Luke understands him too, drove him to the station without a word of complaint, just seemed to _know_ he needed to get out.

But, then there's everyone else. Stars Hollow never liked him and he knows he made it easy to feel that way, but he didn't expect to want to stay. It was never meant to be long-term for him, and living there definitely won't ever be on the cards, but when Luke told him he always had room for him he let himself feel secure that he has a place to go if things ever flip upside down. Felt secure that even if he never gets to be _with_ Rory, the way he wants - the way they were on the road to being - that it's okay because he can make amends and be civil if she wanted.

She's not even here and she still has him laying in her palm.

She's not even here, and then, suddenly, she is.

He spots the backpack first, bright yellow, too bright and cheery for New York. She's facing a map of New York and from the way, her shoulders have folded in on herself he can tell she's confused. His feet are moving before he can tell himself it's not her. He spots the cast on her arm and his feet speed up until he's arm's length from that backpack and he stops. 

"You looking for the tourist routes or the quickest way to _The Times_?"

* * *

He looks like he hasn't slept well in the few days he's been here, but his tired eyes gleam a little when they register that she's still wearing his shirt Luke gave her. In her haste to leave she just changed the sweatpants for some jeans, couldn't bring herself to change out of the shirt or the jacket. She wants to grab him; to kiss him or shake him, she doesn't quite know but her entire body has frozen up and she can't open her mouth to speak. 

He looks worried that she's not saying anything. His arms are limp by his side and his fingers are clenching in and out of fists. She spots a small bruise on his forehead, fading already and suddenly she wants to cry because he _did_ get hurt in that accident and _no one cared_. A tear slips down before she can stop it and he looks visibly heartbroken.

"Rory-"

He's interrupted when she drops her backpack to the floor and slams her body against his in a hug. She can't grip him right with the cast limiting her hand motions, but her right hand has his jacket balled into a fist and she's pushing herself to her toes to get as close to him as possible. She can feel his jacket start to go a little damp where she's crying but his arms wrap around her waist and pull her even tighter against him and nothing else matters. One of his hands slides up to cradle the back of her head, holding her there, her toes just skimming the ground with how tightly he's holding her. 

"Rory," He sounds like he's trying not to cry himself, "I'm so _so_ sorry."

"Shut up, Jess."

He scoffs a little but lets her kiss him anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> not even a little bit ashamed to say that the first chapter of the sequel is already written and i just need to edit it. i love these two way too much to just stop writing them

**Author's Note:**

> so, whilst this isn't fully cannon compliant, i am going to attempt to keep the original show's plot line relatively the same throughout this fic. the only thing i'm altering is jess and rory's story, and even then i'm comparing to the show to make sure the facts and everything are relatively the same.
> 
> i think they really had some potential and hated the way they were written off, so this is my version :)


End file.
